


Proselytization

by ringwinning



Series: Lingua Franca [1]
Category: Phineas and Ferb
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, But Perry is still better at it, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Heinz gets the chance to be a smooth motherfucker, Human Perry the Platypus (Phineas and Ferb), M/M, Multi, Perry gets a(nother) backstory, Post-Season/Series 04, Pre-OWCA Files, Psychological Torture, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-09-02 03:23:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 45,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16778623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ringwinning/pseuds/ringwinning
Summary: Proselytization (n): The act of converting from one belief, doctrine, cause, or faith to another.Perry used to believe he and Heinz operated at two completely different ends of the spectrum. That was years ago. Now that the balance has shifted, he supposes he should have seen their inevitable convergence from miles away.





	1. Patching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patch (v): to repair or restore.

"See? See? I _told_ you it wasn't so bad. I could have taken care of this _myself,_ y'know. Ow! Watch it!"

Beside him, a quiet huff parted his companion's lips as deft fingers worked droplets of blood away from his wounds. Over the years, Heinz had gotten used to looking after his mechanical arms. Long habit and consistent practice meant he could tinker with the wiring without so much as a flinch. But a _certain somebody_ insisted on looking after him, and he still wasn't sure whether to be grateful, bemused, or insulted at the utter lack of faith.

Then again, maybe Perry the Platypus had cause to be _slightly_ worried. The explosion resulting from his latest science class had caught him full-on in the face, resulting in both of his arms being covered in sheet metal and some severe dislocation. His students had been treated to the sight (and sound) of their 'assistant teacher' popping one of his shoulders into place, then carrying on with the lecture while Doofenshmirtz sat in the corner and spent the rest of the period picking shrapnel out of his skin.

All in all, a typical day by his own standard.

"It wasn't even _my fault._ You know that, right? That Johnny is just a walking _disaaaster_ magnet. And that's _me_ saying that. If he would just keep his hands to himself these classes would go a lot _smoother._ He's a menace to society, I swear. Hang on, tighten that screw there. C'mon, don't be _shy,_ Perry the Platypus, twist that sucker. Make sure it lines up with the socket. Replace that wire—no, the _other wire—_ now close the panel. _There_ we go, much better. Now I can point threateningly at him when he inevitably ruins another one of my _lectures._ You know, I mean—more than I _usually_ do."

Previously motionless digits twitched to life as Heinz experimented with his newly restored arm, ignoring the slight twinge that came from the day of disuse. It wasn't exactly common practice for a science teacher to mess with the circuitry of his own body in the middle of class, so he'd simply dictated everything to his students while Perry the Platypus utilized the chalkboard to copy down his notes. Heinz begrudgingly settled on being grateful that someone had been able to corral the wily students while he had been incapacitated.

(Not that he needed the help. Obviously.)

_Stop whining,_ Perry signed at him. Heinz reached out blindly and shoved, watching out of his peripheral vision while he flopped dramatically onto the couch. As if he'd ever _actually_ be able to bowl over the indomitable Agent P—but they both missed their antagonism from time to time, and they were more than happy to pretend when the moment suited them. Yet, now that he'd effectively turned over a new leaf, evenings with only their favorite soap (and a dormant robot) to keep them company had quickly become a habit that both of them had grown accustomed to. He let Perry wriggle away while he re-focused on the soap, presumably to return the first aid kit he had used to patch up the rest of the burns and scratches still in sight.

For his own part, Perry spent the next few minutes rigorously scrubbing his hands, making sure each speck of blood was washed away after returning the first aid kit. It didn't matter how accustomed he'd become to cleaning blood (as though the figurative stains ever _truly_ left); he still balked at the idea of what microscopic horrors awaited his immune system. Not to mention, he didn't exactly keep track of how often Heinz cleaned his bathroom.

Finally satisfied, Perry peered into the mirror as he dried his hands on a nearby towel. Six years ago, he wouldn't have thought twice about letting Doofenshmirtz bleed out after one of his little 'episodes'; it would have been out of character for him to risk so much as a glance back. Six years ago, their acquaintance had been nothing more but a means to an end. But now? Perry meandered away from the bathroom and fixed russet eyes upon Heinz. Heinz, who had somehow wormed his way into winning his affections. Heinz, who had become his best friend; whom he trusted above all else—

…Heinz, who had somehow already eaten most of the available snacks.

Perry hopped back onto the couch and greeted his nemesis with his own well-deserved shove. He had only been in the bathroom for all of five minutes.

"Oh come on, it's not like I don't _deserve_ a whole tub of popcorn. I mean, I _did_ have something blow up in my face today. Not that that's, you know, _abnormal_ for me, it's just—it's abnormal for _most people,_ and it's abnormal for _me_ because there was no _evil_ involved this time. And I mean, I know it was abnormal for you because there was no _thwarting_ or anything, but I still think _I_ win out here since _I_ was the one who made the bigger lifestyle change— _hey!_ "

Perry's stoicism cracked just enough to allow the corner of his lip to curl up into a smirk as he popped another one of the chocolate covered raisins into his mouth. Heinz could almost see the halo dancing just above his brow he acted so innocent—which sickened him just enough to flick a tortilla chip directly at Perry's nose. Predictably, his ex-nemesis dodged just in time.

"Yeah, you just _wait,_ Perry the Platypus. I still have one or two inators left in me. One of them might just end up being a _food-launch-inator._ That'll get'cha."

Perry's brow raised as he regarded Heinz, as unimpressed as ever. His mind roiled with the remembrance of several other food-related inators which he'd successfully destroyed, and he couldn't help but wonder exactly how another one of those would play out. Nevertheless, he shot Doofenshmirtz a pointed look and chittered, crossing his finger over his heart twice.

"I know, I know, I'm a good guy now. Whatever, a guy can dream, right?"

Yet for all of his griping the nemeses soon mellowed into a comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional sniffle (or, in Heinz's case, loud wailing) and the retrieval of a tissue. Their food supply dwindled slowly through the evening, leaving the pair to lean on each other with only an empty box between them. After a long day of dealing with an explosive mess and high-strung students, Perry couldn't help but relax enough to doze. His mind wandered far enough that he allowed himself to slump against Heinz's shoulder, back pressed against his friend's side while his arms folded across his chest. Apparently, though, the scientist had other things on his mind.

"Remember that one time my college professor came over? You know the one, with the glasses and her hair in a bun? Yeah, that day where I was singing about impressing my professor. Which, admittedly, I didn't _actually do,_ but eh, regardless—"

Perry tilted his head until he could peer up at Heinz from his vantage point, brow cocked as he waited for the rambling to cease. Yes, he thought. Yes, he did remember.

"—and I really thought I'd _impressed_ her that time, but _clearly_ I didn't, and we were standing _right over there_ and I asked you if you thought I was _evil._ Remember that?" Vaguely Doofenshmirtz gestured to a space on his terrace. Perry didn't necessarily need to look to know what he was talking about — his eidetic memory provided the moment with perfect clarity, and it had nothing to do with the flashy performance that his nemesis had put together.

He'd been thrown off by the question, and hadn't known how to respond at first. In the plainest of terms, of course Heinz was evil. Anyone who perpetrated some sort of inconvenience against the general populace of the Tri-State Area was labeled as such under OWCA. But even before that day his view on Heinz Doofenshmirtz had been changing. And it had _continued_ changing, until they had morphed into this strange amalgamation of best friends, enemies, and confidantes all at once. Unable to expound upon any of his thoughts, the agent offered a simple nod.

"Did you mean it?" Heinz's voice sounded distant. Perry watched as he turned to look out the window, where the city's lights were growing brighter in the darkness. "You know, the—…thinking I was _eeevil,_ that part."

Perry's frown deepened, recalling the encouraging smile he had given Heinz that night. At the time, he had seemed like he needed it—and considering the life his nemesis had led, the gesture seemed so small compared to the enormity of neglect he had suffered. Perry couldn't find it in himself to be surprised that Doofenshmirtz remembered such a gesture; he simply wondered what had brought this pensiveness along, and whether or not he should be worried about it. He signed yes, slowly, and pressed his back a little firmer against his nemesis’ side in a move that he hoped would be read as supportive. Even when their relationship had been based upon pure antagonism, he had been loath to lie to Heinz.

"What about now?" Dark blue eyes finally focused upon Perry again, leaving him to furrow his brow at the words. He thought he'd followed the thread of the conversation, yet Heinz seemed intent to veer off in a number of different directions. What _about_ now? He should know how much faith Perry placed in him — the trust in his words evident in the way they remained so close. In truth, Heinz seemed far more comfortable being good than he ever had attempting to be evil. He stood taller, he was calmer, and—most notable to Perry—he focused far less on his backstories than he used to.

_Be good,_ he told him. _It's a good look for you._

"You think so?" Heinz fell silent, ruminating over the words as long arms folded across his chest. He stared at the ceiling in a gesture Perry recognized as inherent self-consciousness. "Vanessa says the same thing. Apparently _everyone_ thinks I'm cut out to be a _good guy._ I just wonder, you know. It took me forty seven years to _get_ to this point, Perry the Platypus. How do I know that I'm not wasting my time? How do I know if I'm even supposed to _be_ anything? Besides a lawn gnome. Life was _muuuch_ easier as a lawn gnome."

Perry sat straight, looking fairly indignant. He'd stood by for too long as Doofenshmirtz put himself down, a product of the severe abuse he'd received throughout his life. Yet, even without the love and support of a true family, Heinz had been resilient enough to become one of the greatest men Perry would ever know. He gestured around the room, indicating the various pieces of machinery which were still lying around from his nemesis’ tinkering.

_You're a literal rocket scientist,_ Perry insisted, the sharp movement of his hands indicative of his agitation. _Don’t let the past define who you could be._

Doubt yet lingered in Heinz's gaze as he interpreted his words. It pained Perry to think that this admittedly brilliant man had such little faith in himself; something that neither he nor Vanessa would be able to truly help with. They could only do so much in convincing Doofenshmirtz of his own self-worth. Still, the russet gaze gentled and  Perry decided to offer a few more words of comfort.

_Trust Vanessa. And me. Trust me too._

_"Okay,_ okay. Let up, Doctor Feelbetter. Jeez." But Perry could see that his companion's mouth was twitching, almost but not quite forming a smile. "I was just _aaasking._ "

With narrowed eyes Perry leaned forward, huffing as he flicked at Heinz's forehead. The two of them had too much history not to be vulnerable with each other at times like this, but that didn't mean he had to like it. Once again his mouth twisted into a frown, the fringe of his teal-colored hair obscuring most of his remaining concern.

_Have to go,_ he signed, errantly indicating the world outside. Their soaps had long since concluded — he'd simply wanted to stick around for the sake of Doof's company. Still, it was late, and his family would likely be missing him. He pushed away from his companion, chilled by the sudden rush of cool air between them as he approached the edge of the balcony. _You okay?_

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll be right as rain. I mean, besides the burns and cuts and potential for carnal mayhem tomorrow. _Hooopefully_ there won't be any injuries, but no promises. And, if there _are_ no injuries, then I think I deserve more _popcorn."_ Heinz paused, scowling at his nemesis’ flat stare. "Seriously. I'm fine. Fantastic. Fabulous. …Fffirst-rate. I'm-I'm running out of _F words,_ Perry the Platypus. You get the idea. Go on, get outta here."

Perry's frown didn't quite dissipate, but the tightness in his chest loosened just enough for a scoff of laughter. He shook his head, offering Heinz a lazy salute before he dove from the building and allowed the wind to carry him into the night.


	2. Recollecting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recollect (v): to recall to mind; recover knowledge of by memory; remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [here](https://cdn.lookastic.com/looks/blazer-v-neck-t-shirt-chinos-large-665.jpg) if you're curious about Perry's standard outfit. Middle-click for a new window.

_The downpour clapped against warm asphalt as two black-clad figures raced down the road. Sheets of rain obscured the couple, protected only by their soaked all-weather jackets. Behind them, two vehicles accelerated until the tires audibly squealed under the strain._

_"Take him!" Over the howling wind a female voice cut, shoving a small squirming bundle into her partner's hands. She, the better shot, looked over her shoulder and managed to clip through the windshield of one of the approaching vehicles. Not enough to stop them, she thought grimly, but certainly sufficient enough to slow them down and give them a few needed moments to slip away._

_They skidded down an alleyway, lit only by the stuttering light bulbs provided by unoccupied shops. The armed agent slipped against the pavement and swore as the scraped her knee. Her companion turned to look over his shoulder, clutching the child in his unyielding grasp. "Keep going!"_

_Indecision hindered him for but a moment before her partner continued down the narrow passage. His heart pounded a tattoo against his chest as a volley of shots rang through the air. Indistinguishable from the heavy thunder crashing around them, the man slammed his shoulder upon a conspicuous metal door._

_"Please," he panted to no one, with only the whining bundle for company. He jarred himself against the door again, feeling a bruise forming as he clutched the child still tighter in his arms. Beyond the drumbeat of the rain, silence had befallen the rest of the alley. The agent closed his eyes and steeled himself for yet another shove. No time to mourn his loss. "Come on!"_

_Finally the door opened, revealing a sizeable young man in a buttoned lab coat. He bowled the intern over in his last attempt to barrel down the door, only moments too late. From his throat a fountain of blood spewed, a weak gurgle accompanied with pleading eyes the only sign of his request. The man toppled forward, brown fedora falling unceremoniously to the floor only to be coated in thick globules of blood. Choking on his own gore, the downed operative stuttered his last breaths into the chaos surrounding him. Gunfire plagued the air as guards held his attackers at bay, while the boy in the lab coat created a trail of redness by dragging him toward relative safety._

_"Sergeant! Sergeant Signature! We have a breach in sector one-nine-seven-zero; repeat: we have intruders and an agent down in sector one-nine-seven-zero—Agent F, can you hear me? Agent——"_

_He drifted into nothing, and the child finally began to cry._

* * *

_"You know we can't keep him here. We just don't have the manpower."_

_"But sir, Agent F's last request—"_

_"Agent F is_ dead, _Noah. His son is a liability. A threat to this organization."_

_"We can't just abandon him," Noah insisted, clutching the squirming child close. The sergeant had a valid point—soon, if they didn't evacuate, they would be overrun. The Australian branch of the Agency would fall if they couldn't cobble together a new base of operations. And quickly. The child had begun to dwindle their meager supplies in the last few weeks it had been present—and it wasn't as though OWCA was in the habit of keeping diapers and pacifiers in the bunkers. That wasn't even counting Sergeant Signature as an extra body; he'd had to fly in himself from America after their own Captain Calligraph had gone MIA._

_Still, he couldn't leave the child to the whims of the world in such a vulnerable state. Noah fixed the blanket over the boy's teal hair, smoothing a palm over his head in a half hearted attempt to soothe him. "It just wouldn't be right."_

_"Well, what would you suggest? He has no family. He has nowhere to go. You can put him in an orphanage if you want to press your luck, though. He'd probably be located and killed on sight."_

_"He actually does have some family, sir." Noah pushed his half-moon glasses up his nose and indicated a cracked computer screen. Despite its appearance, it still functioned well enough, and at the moment they would take whatever help they could get. "Down in Melbourne. Agent A had a series of distantly-related cousins. They weren't close enough to be tracked by anyone. I'm sure nobody would think to look for him there."_

_"Really? Not even with that hair?" Dubious grey eyes cast upon the infant, a frown evident even under Signature's considerable beard._

_"This particular genetic mutation is prevalent in both sides of the family, sir." He, too, glanced down at his charge. That particular oddity had been notated in both the agents' files—specifically as weaknesses in relation to stealth and espionage. However, it seemed to have suited the both of them just fine… until it hadn't. "Teal hair was far more prominent in Agent F's genealogical line, but there are some notable exceptions within the Fletcher progeny. Besides, if he operates under his maternal last name, he'll be a little harder to track. I think he needs all the help he can get."_

_"Fine," Sergeant Signature grunted, still watching the baby with his brow furrowed. "Arrange transportation for young Mr. 'Fletcher' back to Melbourne as soon as possible. Once he's gone, we're out of here."_

* * *

_At age five, Perry was already reading and comprehending high level academics. He displayed an unusual focus on the world and people around him, uncannily perceptive and able to discern even the most innocuous details. At nine, he was tested for his strength, speed, and stamina and impressed his judges with flying colors. His aunt and uncle always praised him for his abilities._

_Unlike most children, however, Perry did not glow under their praise. His flinty eyes merely lowered to the ground, a thoughtful expression overtaking youthful features before he would retreat to his designated room. He spoke rarely, but often profoundly. It was only when he was around ten that he began opening up in full, as if he'd finally accepted the people around him and one day decided he ought to let them in for once. Yet even still, the young Fletcher never learned to be as loud and boisterous as his other cousins. He still preferred his own company, which seemed to suit the rest of his family just fine. They didn't have to pretend he wasn't ostracized if he put forth the effort himself. They also didn't have to guess at what the young boy was trying to say—an exercise in patience, his uncle Ethan called it. Apparently it was difficult to try to interpret hand gestures for more than a few novel minutes._

_His aunt Addy, on the other hand, simply gave him a patient smile and smoothed down his unruly hair._

_"You'll be a great man someday," she would say, and Perry would actually be reassured enough to look up at her and tilt his head, as if he was analyzing those words to file away for later. "You'll see."_

_"What makes a man great, anyway?" Perry scuffed his foot on the ground, observing his orange sneakers with keen eyes. "There's lots of us in the world. And then we just…_ die. _That doesn't seem so great to me."_

* * *

_Perry took to training like a duck to water._

_Perhaps that comparison was too on the nose—he actually was, for the most part, often following Agent M (codename: the Mallard) into various tricks and traps. Agent M liked to fray his nerves; apparently it built character, as if a twelve-year-old needed to build any. Sheer determination and willpower carried Perry through his first few weeks at 'Boarding School', where Aunt Adelaide and Uncle Ethan had so graciously consented to send him after a generous stipend had been offered by some mysterious donor._

_He hadn't tried to talk them out of it. After all, he had seven other cousins who needed tending. Besides, it sounded far more promising than the school he would have gone to._

_Very well, so he made a few acquaintances. The Academy was never short of eager young recruits, and although Perry had no real want of their companionship, they seemed to admire him enough to approach him anyway. He found himself inadvertently drawn into conversations, and then sitting with people on a regular basis as he listened to them gossip about inane, unreal problems. Things like 'Hey Perry, what do you think I should wear on my date tonight?' and 'Hey Perry, can I borrow your notes on those different kinds of ammo?' rapidly—and irritatingly—became commonplace._

_The days were exhaustive, and the nights more so. At least when his family housed him they were often in their own rooms, with a modicum of privacy afforded to them. Surrounded by strangers in an overcrowded dormitory, however, the young man's world seemed to shrink father still. He continued to attempt to keep to himself and merely dedicated his attention to his studies. The textbooks were nothing which he suspected any pre-teen ought to be looking at—alongside his geography and maths texts, he had also been assigned things like 'A Secretive History of Secret Agents,' 'The Art of Deception,' and even 'Grappling Hooks 101.' The texts were devoured so fast that the librarian had trouble finding new things for him to read within a year and a half of his attendance. He kept the books a secret whenever he wrote back to his aunt and uncle. Somehow he got the impression neither of them would approve._

_On the bright side, at least the dress code was lax. All that was required of him was to wear the abhorrent brown fedora he'd been provided on his first day. Perry hated it. The bright yellow band clashed horribly with his hair._

* * *

_Years later, those who excelled in basic training were assigned code names. Perry wasn't sure they were thinking quite that hard when they called him 'The Platypus', but after looking up the animal (and entertaining himself with the idea of venomous foot spurs) he decided he could have had it much worse. At least 'Perry the Platypus' rolled off the tongue, and he didn't have to refer to himself as 'Agent Silent G.'_

* * *

_By the time he was nineteen, the band had changed into a bold, forbidding black. He didn't like to think of how much blood had been used to dye it that way._

_(Perry didn't think the stains would ever wash off his hands.)_

_"You know, you're one of the youngest agents ever to earn that." The man before him gestured up to Perry's well-worn fedora, smiling as if in reminiscence. "I won't sugarcoat it for you, kid. You're wasted here in the Outback."_

_Perry merely tipped his hat. He already knew he was good, but it never hurt to show a little appreciation._

_"—And I won't lie to you, either. We've seen an upswing of rogue agents over in the Americas while you've been training. It's a mess over there, what with the agents and the evil scientists and the bloody budget crises..." Slowly, the newly christened ‘Agent P’ blinked and carefully wiped any amusement from his face. "Anyway. The point is, we're officially relocating you. Don't worry, you'll still complete the rest of your training over in the British Isles before we plant you in the States. Just as a transitional phase. We want your cousins to be adequately acclimated to your presence. You know, before we not-so-subtly direct one of them to move. Pack it up, Agent P. In about a week, you'll be living with this bright young fellow right here."_

_Nimble fingers plucked the offered file from the desk, and russet eyes scanned the profile of his cousin Lawrence with a disdainfully raised brow. Privately, Perry thought he looked a bit dim. But then again, he shared that uncharitable thought amongst many of his family members. Who knew? Maybe Larry would surprise him._

* * *

_Lawrence never failed to surprise him._

_Eight years apart left them with an awkward gap. He could not claim his cousin as anything except that—some distantly related relative who alternated between offering strangely sage advice and an awkwardly uncoordinated little brother (Perry was younger, but he didn't often feel that way. Actually, he never felt that way. Ever.)_

_But Lawrence's bright and cheerfully optimistic nature seemed just the right sort of counterpoint that Perry needed in his own dreary world. For once, he would look forward to coming home if only to listen to Lawrence ramble about his latest historical find. For once, he smiled whenever he remembered something. For once, he didn't feel quite so alone._

_Of course, he still had his secrets. His poor gullible cousin was conditioned to believe that he made long commutes away from England in order to pursue various collegiate efforts; it was a flimsy lie by his own standard, but then he hadn't been the one to provide it. He simply learned to roll with the punches, and usually answered any questions with a shrug or a mysterious smile. It didn't matter when he could distract his cousin easily enough with a newly-purchased history book. Besides, he was typically engaged with Adrian in some far-flung competition anyway._

_Perry found over a period of years that he communicated best with Lawrence, and in this way also realized that the two of them had grown closer than he had ever thought possible. When he came home, his cousin was one of the highlights of his day. When he felt unable to express himself in vague hand gestures and the occasional huff, Lawrence would simply sit with him until he felt better. While it seemed to him that the Fletchers had accepted him without pause, it had taken him more than twenty years to find someone so especially endearing as his older cousin. Which was why, when Ferb was born, and Perry made godfather, he vowed to always do his best to protect his hard-won family._

* * *

_Perry thought he'd seen enough death and destruction at the Academy. Evidently, he would continue to prove himself wrong._

_Tightly held in his grasp, a small green-haired toddler clung to his uncle and cried silent tears. His own parents hadn't been around when he was born—he couldn't imagine how crushed Ferb must feel, knowing but not knowing exactly where his mother had gone, and why she wasn't moving anymore. He was only two. He shouldn't have had to endure that much loss._

_And neither should Lawrence. He'd been understandably closed off for several days, inconsolable in a way that bothered both his brother and his cousin. Gone was the spark of life which held the trio together; the effervescence of Lawrence's optimism jarred him back into a dim and lightless world. He didn't appreciate the reminder._

_For hours, the Fletchers stared at a coffin and halfheartedly listened to a pre-arranged sermon before they dropped Ferb's mother into a hole in the ground. It took the rest of the day to even remotely console his nephew, who seemed unable to do anything but offer the odd hiccup and miserable whine. When he finally calmed Ferb down enough to get him to sleep, he found Lawrence sitting by the fire and staring into it like he'd rather it swallow him whole._

_Perry wondered if he would have to be the one to pull him out, and knew without a doubt that he wouldn't hesitate to do so._

_"I don't think I can stay here anymore, Perry." He didn't look away from the fire, but the grim set of his mouth told of a man who was barely keeping himself together. "I don't… I don't think I can really take it. And I don't think Ferb should_ have _to take it. It's all sorts of sudden, I know, but—the States. I've decided to pack it up and move across the Pond. I've already discussed it with Father, but… will you join me?"_

_To this day he wonders how in the hell Lawrence thought he had a choice._

* * *

_The next few years are a process._

_Perry serves under Major Monogram, who reminds him so much of Sergeant Signature that for several months he thinks they must be related. Often he is joined by at least one clumsy but well-meaning intern. He's still not sure which one he likes the best, but it isn't like that detail matters all too much anyway._

_Lawrence meets Linda and it suddenly seems like his life flies by in bursts of color. Small, imaginative children cling to his pants and beg him not to leave whenever he gets called in for a mission. They call him 'Uncle Perry' and are all delighted when he brings them gifts from abroad. His cousin is the happiest he's been in ages and all seems right with the world. In a few years, he even has his very own assigned nemesis._

_And he likes Dr. D. Right from the start; observing him had never been a chore so much as it had been a source of edutainment. On the day they meet (two days before Perry gets caught in his very first trap, and their notorious antagonism begins), he knocks on the evil scientist's door after climbing in through the hallway window and tips his hat at him. It isn't strictly necessary for him to introduce himself—but he's never been fond of the 'breaking and entering' method. Tends to leave a bad first impression._

_"What gives? Are you like some kind of Jehovah's_ Witness _or something? 'Cause I'm really not_ interested, _and I'm kinda_ busy _so—"_

_Perry huffs, shaking hair away from his eyes. Instead he offers his to-be-nemesis a monogrammed card, emblazoned with golden lettering spelling out 'PTP' and a short description of his profession on the back. Doofenshmirtz takes the card, his brow furrowing, and looks from it to him and back again. Perry fights back a smile as he imagines Heinz trying to connect the dots._

_"Aren't you a little too_ fashionable _to be a secret agent?" he waves nebulously at Perry's clothes, and the agent's brow quirks as he looks down at himself. He's never thought so much about his clothing, so he thinks 'No, no I'm not.' But he supposes compared to Doof's lab coat his own garb could be considered such. With a light blue blazer he had paired a teal undershirt, complete with a brown and white polka-dotted pocket square, and accented by his ubiquitous fedora and khaki chinos. It lined up with most of everything in his wardrobe, so Perry wondered if he would be facing more quips like that sooner than not. Instead of feeling offended, the operative gestures right back at Heinz, a smirk forming on his lips._

 _"Hey, hey,_ hey, _Mr. 'Better-Dressed-Than-Thou', some of us have other things to take care of. You know, like,_ building _things. Making people_ miserable. _" Heinz glances back down at the card again, and something must click because his whole face lights up. "And that's why you're here, isn't it? I don't believe it. They finally did it! They assigned me a nemesis! Yes! I_ knew _someone was watching me. Oh, man. You're_ so _going down, Fancy Pants."_

_The rasping laugh Perry lets out surprises both of them into a pause. Dr. Doofenshmirtz probably doesn't expect the sound. Perry plain out just never got used to laughing, period. They're still smiling at each other five seconds later until the scientist clears his throat and awkwardly shuffles his feet._

_"Well… well, that's—_ great. _I guess I'll be seeing you around, then?" Perry is concerned that he sounds so hopeful, as if the assignment would be taken away from him. Nevertheless, he tips his hat again and gives Heinz a thumbs up._

_Two days later, he shows up right on time—and gets caught in a cage for his trouble._

* * *

_They dance an intricate dance, Heinz and he._

_Perry quickly climbs and tops the ranks of Division M; he isn't so concerned about having to travel to odd corners of the world anymore, because_ this _part of the world seems intent on falling into neat little patterns. He grows attached to Doofenshmirtz, and Doofenshmirtz to him—and it expands to the point where either of them is dismayed upon receiving other assignments._

_He actually pauses and blinks at Major Monogram when he suggests that Perry engage some 'Doctor Drakken' over in Colorado while one of the new recruits 'deals' with Doofenshmirtz for the day, and is reminded so much of Heinz when he gets there that he ends up recording the entire encounter on his wrist communicator so that they can laugh about it later. Major Monogram doesn't have to know._

_By the time he is thirty three, he and Heinz are evenly matched. They come to blows more often than not, but at least for him, it's an enjoyable pastime. It isn't long before he's introduced to Vanessa—then twelve, still as irascible and argumentative as ever—and Perry has to bite his lip to hide a grin while Heinz gestures at him and says 'I want you to meet someone very important.' It sounds exactly what he thinks it sounds like. He's just not sure if Heinz realizes that. He doesn't have time to dwell on it because he's still caught in a giant water bottle and needs to find his way out._

_His life begins to diverge into two distinct pathways. One leads him down a familiar and well-trodden path, where he pretends to be an actuary and melds easily into boring Uncle Perry who doesn't do much and tends to sleep until dinnertime. The other leads him on a far more complicated road, filled with uncertainties and wild stories, with scars and bruises and a heart that breaks and mends every time Heinz provides him with another glimpse into his life. When Perry starts staying over for lunch and dinner and soaps and whatever else—more often than disappearing and leaving Doofenshmirtz to tend to his own wounds—he tells himself he's just being Good™._

_He also knows that isn't the case._

_But these two paths he keeps neatly separate, never allowing Heinz the same courtesy of learning just what makes Perry the Platypus 'tick.' He knows that it irks the scientist—in truth, sometimes it bothers him, too. Heinz would be the perfect confidante, supportive and undemanding despite his wants for attention. As long as his nemesis proclaims himself 'evil', he can never reveal so much as a smidge of his clouded history. He can never introduce his best friend to his family, or have him over for dinner, or—at least according to OWCA regulations—be outwardly friendly with him in public. It is a heavy burden to bear, but worth it. He isn't going to lose Lawrence. He isn't going to lose his boys, and he certainly isn't going to lose his first and truest friend._

_Perry isn't sure exactly when he begins toe-stepping around the idea that he and Heinz work so well together. It isn't just the rhythm of their battle; it's the way they seem to come together afterwards. It's the late nights, the pleas for help, the exchanged smirks, the way Heinz brightens when he actually manages to make him laugh. The knowledge that nothing quite compares to what he has with this strange genius from Drusselstein. But their tussles do seem to pick up a different charge over time, and he finds he doesn't quite mind if they brush up against each other every so often, or if a touch lingers a beat longer than it should and he gains another bruise for his trouble. This is around the time when the word 'nemesis' comes to mean so much more than 'enemy', and becomes instead one of the strangest terms of endearment he's ever had the fortune to use. There's everything unfamiliar about the way his stomach begins to twist at the thought of engaging his mad scientist every day (and yes, Perry has conceded that Heinz had become 'his' nemesis quite some time ago), but it's pleasant in a way that he can't really describe._

_He suspects they're on the verge of something beautiful, and hopes Heinz thinks the same._

* * *

_Communication isn't usually hard for them. But every pair of nemeses runs into trouble sooner or later._

Did you think I wouldn't notice? _His fingers twitch erratically as he signs, as if he's itching to do something else with them. Instead his baleful gaze remains trained upon Doofenshmirtz—his friend, his almost-everything—and suddenly it's hitting him how terrifying his attachment to this man could possibly be._

_After the Dr. Feelbetter debacle, he wanted to confront their troubles on a much more personal level—just them, no pretenses, hoping that the scenario would be able to allay his fears. It only seems to make them worse. They're thirty-six and forty-seven, and their unorthodox relationship has carried on so long that he knows rumors of a passionate affair have been floating around for years. Damn the hearsay—he just doesn't want to lose Heinz._

_Given Peter's proclivities, that's probably exactly why he went after his evil scientist. Damn him, too._

_"It was never that, Perry the Platypus," Heinz pleads. He's wringing his hands too, probably itching to build all of his troubles away like he's so wont to do. He looks genuinely distressed, and Perry's heart cracks a little. "It wasn't just—it_ waaasn't. _Peter the Panda, he was just—more_ open. _And I-I…"_

_Perry's eyes narrow, but he drops his hands. He knows Peter. He also knows how manipulative and just how 'open' he can really be. But Peter lives on no strings. He doesn't have a family to lose; instead he makes up for it by dancing the line on OWCA's regulations—so much so that he's surprised the Seattle branch hasn't fired him yet. He, on the other hand, has kept a tight-lipped silence on himself for six years. He doesn't have to reach too deeply to realize he understands where the breach has come from, and what he has to do to repair it._

_"I was wrong." This is one of the best parts about Heinz; there are moments where he indulges his inherent goodness enough for Perry to seriously doubt his evil intentions. He can feel the sincerity drip from those words; feels the truth down deep in his bones. They're both in the wrong here, and he knows that. That's why he reaches forward and takes Heinz’s hand, and gives him a smile before he tugs him into a hug. Heinz clings to him like a lifeline and he clings back, relief finally overwhelming him. "I was wrong. And anyway, you're a much better fighter than he is."_

_There's that rasping laugh again. He can feel his nemesis grin against his jacket in response._

* * *

_His heart mends, and the profound, slow-burning passion between them seems to delve ever deeper over the summer. Perry can't seem to keep away from Heinz, and Heinz seems to grow a little more possessive one day at a time. Part of him thinks he ought to be alarmed by it—but part of him deeply appreciates the connection in some warped way. That's probably what he gets for living without someone to trust this long._

_They hold hands. That's normal. They dance a little closer together. That isn't. Perry catches Heinz watching him when he thinks he isn't looking, and he looks when he knows Heinz is distracted enough not to notice in turn. And, little by little, he gives him exactly what he craves—snippets of his life that Perry deems safe enough to share, because no matter how 'mad' or 'evil' Doofenshmirtz may claim to be, he sincerely doubts he would think to go after his myriad of Australian cousins._

_These are pieces of him he used to think of as inconsequential, but his nemesis treats them like they're his most valuable possessions. Those are probably the moments he realizes he's falling too deeply to ever get the hell out—not that he would want to, when Heinz looks at him the way that he does. Not that he would want to, when he can practically feel the electric charge between them as they tangle together on the floor. Their mad bids to re-balance the dichotomy of good and evil in their favor start to plague him at night, in ways they probably shouldn't. He's given up trying to keep those thoughts at bay._

_He is in love with Heinz Doofenshmirtz. Perry wonders what the doctor would say if he realized he had trapped him so permanently without ever meaning to._

* * *

_When that summer ends, Perry has to fight the urge to tackle Heinz and kiss him._

_It isn't just the success of his last inator—though that deserves a celebration on its own—but the fact that he is so damnably proud of him that it can hardly be expressed in words. He even forgets the heartbreak he'd felt over the 'No Thwarting' decree._

_Heinz has renounced his association with evil, and the implications of such a bold move cause stutters in his chest. The impossible suddenly seems possible; a beacon brighter than he could possibly believe._

_Vanessa keeps giving him sly looks while Danville recovers from its latest mess, and Doofenshmirtz can't seem to understand why Perry keeps glaring at her. He's glad he's wearing his hat, because while he'd deemed it proper to spend the time with his best friend and his daughter, his ears burn a constant pink and it only gets worse the more overt the teenager gets. For once, despite the fact that he thinks of Vanessa as his fourth child, he's also glad when she leaves the two of them in peace._

_Well, relative peace, anyway. There's still the matter of Heinz turning her ex-boyfriend into a monster on his first day of work._

* * *

Candace was ranting about Jeremy when he came to a decision.

The past few days had weighed upon him, and oddly enough his niece's trite concerns almost perfectly mirrored what words Perry could remember of that night. Candace worried consistently that she wouldn't be good enough for her boyfriend. Heinz simply worried about that on a much grander scale.

Not that Perry could blame him—the entire stint of his evil career had been based on an incredibly neglectful childhood. He'd never once thought to drive Doofenshmirtz away from his intentions; merely hoped he would come to his own conclusions. And he had. Which left him incredibly vulnerable.

Occupied at the breakfast table—where Linda had insisted he stay, being as he kept missing dinner (mostly to make sure Heinz was really okay, in the form of thinly-veiled movie nights)—he picked at his eggs and bacon, pondering how best to prove to Heinz that he did matter, if only to one stoic secret agent.

The solution, of course, slapped him in the face with all the subtlety of a giant roller coaster.

"Jeremy's asking me on another date," Candace swooned, grinning at her phone dreamily. He vaguely wondered if Heinz ever looked that way when thinking about him. "I can't wait! What should I wear? How should I do my hair? I've got to call Stacy—"

Perry stood up so fast that he nearly knocked his utensils off the table. His stomach was suddenly tying itself in knots.

"Perry? You alright?" Lawrence paused with his tea halfway to his mouth, then watched as his cousin scrambled away from the table.

 _Late for a meeting,_ he gestured hastily, glad that his obscure cover didn't lend itself to clear timetables. Technically speaking, it was true. He was about four or five years late to this meeting, and there really was no excuse for that.

Nervous energy propelled him to nearly fly in and out of the shower, pulling his usual blue-on-brown ensemble on with no thought before he rushed out the door and down to his lair for a faster mode of transportation. He wasn't sure he could stand the walk to Doofenshmirtz Evil Incorporated before he lost his nerve. He'd just have to make certain he used his key this time.

After all, it probably wouldn't do if he showed up crashing through Heinz's window to ask him out on a date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IDK, I felt like posting early. This story seem to be getting quite a few hits! Cheers gents; I hope you enjoyed human!Perry's outfit. :)


	3. Rectifying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rectify (v): to make, put, or set right; remedy; correct.

Perry almost flinched at the too-saccharine elevator music which guided him up the DEI building. He most certainly didn't need to be reminded of things like love, or romance, or any sort of idyllic notion which could quite possibly be thrown right in his face. What was he even supposed to _say_ to Heinz?

The elevator opened to reveal familiar purple walls and carpeting, leaving the agent to approach the proper door with a gait most similar to a funeral march. Never in his life had he felt this much doubt. Never in his life had he felt such an urge to turn and run. Hide? Not a chance. But he'd spent a good three-or-more years keeping these feelings in the dark, and a niggling feeling told him that maybe it should stay that way.

'DOOFENSHMIRTZ', read the door he rested his head upon. The plaque gleamed brightly in the available sunlight, almost as if to beckon him into the welcome familiarity of Heinz's lab. Perry briefly reflected how oddly intimate parts of their relationship had turned out to be. Despite the lack of reciprocation, he'd had a key to his nemesis' apartment for several years. He knew and had categorized every traumatizing backstory from least to most unnerving. He knew what Doof's favorite color was; what soaps he enjoyed, how well he slept, what cologne he wore.

Hell, he'd even seen the man naked a handful of times.

For all intents and purposes, the two of them were a couple in all but name. Did regular nemeses deal with these conflicting feelings? Did anyone else mind when Peter infringed upon their supposed 'territory'? From the reports at OWCA—and the few interactions he'd watched between other evil scientists and his fellow agents—he could hardly believe so. He and Heinz were a very special case, and while he typically took pride in that, at the moment he wished he had an example to fall back on. Something to reassure him that things would be alright if his gut had finally steered him in the wrong direction.

Perry stood there for several more minutes, merely listening to the sounds beyond the door while his forehead rested upon it. He could hear the inane mutterings of a previously-evil scientist, presumably while Doofenshmirtz toyed with either one of his arms or something on the stove. Norm puttered ('stomped' was perhaps a more appropriate term) around the apartment while spouting his usual nonsense. This must not have been one of Heinz's weekends with Vanessa, since he couldn't hear her in there—but then again, maybe she was just hiding in her room. That would make things a little more complicated, so he hoped not.

Perry had graciously given himself ten more seconds to collect himself ( _one… two… three… three-and-a-half…_ ) when his trail of thought was interrupted. "SIR! I BELIEVE THERE'S SOMEONE HERE TO SEE YOU!"

"What? Who? It better not be those little _Fireside Girls_ again. I already _bought_ twenty boxes."

Perry swore to himself and shut his eyes, straightening his posture as footsteps approached. _Well._ At least he could count on Norm to be suitably inappropriate enough to steady his nerves for him.

"Huh. Well, you don't _look_ like a Fireside Girl. Y'know, I know a guy who dresses just like that. Did you come here to sell Gaston le Mode knockoffs?"

He had to squint at Heinz for a moment to process how absurd that sounded, before he realized that in his rush he hadn't thought to put on his hat. How the man couldn't recognize him after six years of constant attention to one another stumped him, but Perry clicked his tongue and retrieved the fedora to place on his head anyway. He'd have to file away the fact that Heinz knew he wore Gaston le Mode away for later.

" _Oh,_ Perry the _Platypus!_ Why didn't you just use your _key?_ C'mere, come in. Before those little _demons_ show up." Doofenshmirtz actually poked his head out into the hallway while the agent slipped into the laboratory, then slammed the door shut when he heard the elevator start to move. Too wound up to pay attention, Perry merely sank into his usual spot on the couch.

Yet another tally to add on his 'Intimacy' list.

"Can't be too careful with those _muffins._ I mean, I _just_ lost all the weight I gained. You know how _long_ that took? I'm not sure I could go for a _second round._ And if I do, I'm building an _-inator_ for it." Doofenshmirtz seemed a little too busy gathering refreshments—which was good for him, because Perry couldn't help but verify that weight loss comment with his own keen eyes before his gaze flicked back up to the ceiling. Heinz was right. He'd lost that weight, and probably gained a little muscle by the looks of him. Damn dance aerobics. "Coffee?"

Perry pinched the bridge of his nose and nodded, hoping that the tense set of his shoulders didn't alarm Heinz the way he thought it might. Coffee probably wouldn't settle him—if anything, he needed something like tea; something that would put him at ease rather than make him more peaky—but the scientist had already set about his task, and he wasn't about to stem the other's generosity. When he came back, carrying two steaming cups, Perry took in the sight of him as if he'd never seen him before. It was odd to finally give in to this compunction—now he wondered if he'd ever be able to stop.

"You're here _really_ early," Doof stated, completely overlooking his companion's blatant attention. "I mean really, _really_ early. And it isn't even a _school_ day—well, _you_ don't work there, of course, but I know you usually show up _aaanyway._ Did you need something?"

He let Doofenshmirtz sip his coffee for a full two minutes, his fingers flexing uncertainly before he signed, _wanted to talk._

 _Damn again._ This shouldn't be as hard as he was finding it to be.

"Talk? You know you can't, like, actually talk, right?" Perry narrowed his eyes at him, but couldn't help but shake his head at the old joke. "Okay, okay. As it so happens, Perry the Platypus, I was going to call you later to do the _same thing!_ Boy, it's like we have a _mind link_ or something. I should've tried to do that while I was still _eeevil,_ I guess; why put the effort into _duplicates_ of a secret agent when I could just _control_ the agent instead? Hey-hey-hey, I'm just _kidding!_ "

Perry was sorely tempted to toss his coffee at Heinz anyway, but he subsided with a little huff. He still recalled that awful helmet and the way Doofenshmirtz had almost made him eat gum off the sidewalk—in effect, he'd tried that scheme only to have it backfire on him. Having an _actual_ mind link seemed at least three times worse. At least he didn't have to worry that it was going to happen again (not that it would have been effective in the first place; he was loathe to have let Heinz try that a second time.)

"But seriously," Heinz stirred sugar into his coffee, looking like he was contemplating the murky contents far more than he should. "Let's do lunch? Or— _brunch._ Is that what they call it nowadays? Whatever. As long as it's not _hot dogs._ You know how I feel about those, I-I'm pretty sure I made the backstory _very clear_ that time, so—"

He couldn't help snorting, holding up a hand to stem the flow of his words. Heinz's backstories were one of the few things he kept at a constant forefront of his mind. Besides, he'd never readily forget having a sword fight with a hot dog against a piece of bratwurst. That was among one of the more popular stories circulating around the office. His fingers weaved _no hot dogs, promise,_ while he cast a sardonic smile up at him. _Brunch is good._

"Oh. Well…—Good." Perry quirked a brow at that, curious about his tone. It wasn't as if he would have turned Heinz down. What a switch; both of them uncertain and seeming to dance on eggshells, for once hesitant to express themselves as a whole. Doofenshmirtz looked happy though, so he couldn't find it within himself to be too wary. Instead, he hid his expression behind the platypus-themed coffee mug and tried to calm the way his stomach was still flipping furiously. Brunch wasn't _necessarily_ a date, but it was encouraging to think that Heinz had been thinking about him too.

"DOES THIS MEAN YOU WON'T BE EATING YOUR EGGS?"

Norm seemed put off by this, complete with a downturned mouth and a distinctly unhappy expression. Perry's lips twitched in an attempt not to smile too widely as he observed the ruined breakfast, which was speared through with pieces of shell. He had to flat out bite the inside of his cheek at the thought of Heinz struggling to swallow something like that. Not that he'd ever be that _nice._

"No, Norm, I'm not going to be _eating_ my _eggs._ They're not even _my_ eggs; they're _your_ eggs. Why do you even make them like that? Who does that? Perry the Platypus, have you ever seen _anyone,_ I mean _anyone,_ who eats the eggshells _with_ their eggs? I mean _seriously._ I programmed you to be _smarter_ than that! Go buy some more, seeing as you just wasted the last _six_ . C'mon, _skedaddle._ Tout suite. Go on."

"SURE, DAD!" Norm seemed happy enough to be trusted with such a task. Perry just hoped he wouldn't let Doofenshmirtz down and crush them on his way home.

 _You should be nicer to him,_ he suggested, finally allowing the smirk to curl at the corner of his lip as Norm broke the door down.

"Oh, don't give me that. _You_ should be happy enough that he isn't on a homicidal _rampage._ He still has that in his coding somewhere." Heinz paused, as if he was seriously thinking about disabling it. But Perry knew better. "Eh. I'll take care of it _later_."

 _Want to talk?_ Perry figured he ought to prod his friend in the right direction, just in case he went off on one of his tangents while the caffeine worked its way through his system.

Instead of responding with a ramble, as he had expected, his nemesis glanced down at him and back into his brew again. Evidently, whatever he wanted to talk about was bothering him enough to actually cripple his normally incorrigible mouth. Perry had to admit, it was somewhat off-putting. He swirled the coffee in his grasp to sway his agitation, unwilling to let the emotions show on his face. His family could often be quite oblivious, but not Heinz. He seemed to have made a point of memorizing every expression possible over the last several years.

"Let's do that over brunch. I'm going to have a shower. I smell like _motor_ oil."

Perry refrained from pointing out that he typically _did_ smell like motor oil, simply because he was too occupied with wondering what Heinz could possibly want to talk about. He could hardly remember a time when he had actually _asked_ him to talk before. In the time it took the man to shower, Perry had downed at least one more cup of coffee out of anxiety and worked off some of the excess energy by cleaning up Norm's mess in the kitchen. Better to distract himself than dwell on what-ifs.

* * *

"You know he's just going to mess up the kitchen again, right? It was nice of you to do, though."

They were well on their way to brunch by the time Perry tuned back in to the world, attempting to overcome his mounting concern as they strolled leisurely down the sidewalk. It was still odd for him to be able to do this—to be seen with Heinz out in public without anyone tailing them (or without tailing Heinz himself.) Still, he could normally appreciate the little moments spent in his friend's presence. If only Heinz would tell him what he wanted to talk about.

 _You want to eat here?_ Russet eyes took in the little bistro with a hint of surprise, brows quirking as he took in the quaint little sign and the bright, sunlit windows. It looked… _nice._

"What? I can be _faaancy._ Sometimes." Perry shot him a flat look, settling into one of the available booths and carefully settling his hat on the empty space beside him. Nimble fingers ran through his hair to tousle the teal strands, but he frowned as he noticed Doofenshmirtz's mouth quirk into a grin.

"Your hair always reminds me of feathers, or something," Heinz was trying his best not to laugh; he could see it in the way his lips pursed. Even so, Perry shot his companion a little glare anyway, as he pulled at one of the lengthier locks of his hair. "Wouldn't that be something? If you were an _actual_ platypus. But, like, blue. A _blue_ platypus. Named Perry. That fights _crime._ …Wow. I should write a TV show. Like that one I wrote before, but—oh, _hiii._ Um, hang on. I haven't-haven't actually _looked_ at the _menu._ Can you just bring me a _coffee?_ Thanks, buddy."

Perry bit his tongue against admonishing his nemesis (he didn't need a coffee-hyped Heinz on his hands on top of everything else), and glanced down at the menu himself. It probably would do well to actually request tea this time, so he pointed to the breakfast brew listed on the menu and waved the waiter off in as polite a manner as possible when he tried to obtain a verbal confirmation. Instead he gestured at his companion, rolling his wrist as if inviting him to continue.

"Oh, right. That. Are you sure we can't wait until _aaafter_ the food?" The way Doofenshmirtz shifted set Perry on edge in a way he didn't appreciate. He could recognize that uncertain squirming from anywhere, and his eyes automatically narrowed into a glare for it. Heinz seemed to gather the clear indication that he wanted to get this over with. "Okay, _fiiine._ Perry the Platypus, I wanted to… _ugh,_ this is so _hard._ I wanted… to talk to you about Peter the Pan… what, where do you think you're going? Hey— _nooo,_ no, no, no. Come here. Sit back down. You're not going anywhere."

 _Not going anywhere?_ How dare he. A vein pulsed in his temple as Perry closed his eyes, forcing himself to take a mental step back. It wouldn't do to cause a scene in a private little diner where OWCA might be watching through the windows—nor would it do to draw attention to himself as a whole, or let Heinz know how much even the mention of that name disturbed his internal peace. That, though, seemed like a futile endeavor. Normally he liked to give him the benefit of doubt; it was almost always worth hearing what he had to say. But there were questions Perry had forcefully repressed for the sake of their continued relationship. Why did Heinz insist on bringing up such painful memories? And why _in public?_

The grip that Doofenshmirtz held on the sleeve of his blazer was stronger than most would have anticipated, and Perry knew that he had probably expected exactly this reaction. From the look in his eyes, it seemed as if the only way to get him to let go would have been to rip the arm off one of his favorite coats.

Another deep breath. And another. And another. Perry forced himself not to move, and to control the wild spike of his emotions which had led him to stand abruptly from the table. His nemesis seemed perfectly content to keep waiting, still holding his sleeve from across the table as if he was holding a dog on a leash. From within, a small growl bubbled from Perry's throat and he made a halfhearted attempt to shake him off. The strange, fluttery feeling in his stomach had transformed quite suddenly into a hot, dead weight. Perry thought he could feel himself sinking through the floor his heart weighed so much; as if even the memory of that betrayal—and the subsequent discovery in Washington—was enough to ruin him. It shouldn't have been, but that was Heinz. He could have brought him to his knees if he truly put his mind to it.

"Oh, for badness' sake. It's not what you think." The way Heinz's voice gentled grated on his already frayed nerves, causing another stuttering chirr to escape as he tugged on his arm again. He wasn't going to ruin the day by outright dueling with Doofenshmirtz over this, but the sudden non sequitur into such an unpleasant topic had definitely ruined his appetite. "— _Perry._ Sit down."

Heinz almost never called him 'Perry'. He sat, the furrow in his brow only deepening when Doofenshmirtz refused to let go of his coat.

 _What._ He wished he could contain his body language as well as he could his tongue. Whatever Heinz was reading off him was causing an oddly sympathetic expression to form on his face that Perry wasn't sure he liked.

"Boy. He really _bothers_ you, doesn't he?" The muscles in his shoulders tensed, prominent enough to drive away their waiter only moments after he dropped off their drinks. "Yeah, okay. Stupid… stupid _question._ But that's exactly the point. See—"

 _Seattle._ Perry cut him off with one word, sharp movements betraying his lack of patience and a hint of defensiveness he couldn't even think to control. _How many times?_

"What, how many times did I go _up_ there? I don't know, three? Maybe four?" Heinz seemed to recoil at whatever expression was on his face, Perry reflected; he must look truly, awfully upset. "Look—it doesn't… it doesn't _matter,_ right now, just—…hear me out. Please. Come on. Look at me. See, I've… trapped you by _societal convention._ Again. I did that once before. You remember that, right? Except I was the one who made the scene that time. Now you're _stuck_ here unless you want to look like an angry _ex,_ so just… sit. And listen."

Ah, so they were playing that game. Perry's lip quirked in irritation, but he settled into his chair and motioned with slight, abrasive movements. _You know how I feel about him._

(What could Peter possibly offer him, anyway? What they had shared was nothing compared to what Heinz and _Perry_ had shared. Or, so he thought.)

"Yeah, I… I _know._ But that's sort of the point. Well, it isn't actually the point—I mean, the point is I want you to know how _I_ feel about him—just let me finish!" Doofenshmirtz must have been watching him quite closely to notice such minute reactions; but then again, he could probably recognize cues from him about as well as Lawrence. He must have seen the way his breath caught in his chest. Perry could feel the breath resting there, like tinder catching aflame. He hoped the panic he felt rising in his gut didn't show on his face. What if he had rushed over to the DEI building only to have his heart shattered?

"I was _afraid_ this would happen, ugh. Everything is coming out _backwards._ " Heinz, speaking against the flat of his palms, groaned quietly. He could only watch, stomach twisting further as he noted the way his nemesis seemed to mentally gather himself. "Look, I—just want to tell you that, that time you _found_ me up in Seattle... Nothing _happened_ there. Nothing was _going_ to happen there. It was a—goodbye coffee. _Not even_ a goodbye coffee. I didn't even go up there to see him. Seriously, it's true!"

Across the table, Perry leveled his companion an unimpressed look.

"So help me Perry the Platypus, if I have to build another _backstory-inator_ just to prove to you that nothing happened over there I _will._ This is _important_ . More important than—well, more important than a _lot_ of things. I mean, the inator would probably trip one of OWCA's _alarm_ systems, and then they'd probably consider me _eeevil_ again, but… but it would be _worth it,_ because I'm telling the truth. I never went up there to see him. Never. Not once. There. That's what I wanted to tell you."

Perry considered this, carefully withdrawing his hands so that he could doctor his tea. Heinz typically had very obvious tells for different situations in his life. He tended to grow meek in Charlene's presence, for example, due to the alimony check which she had recently begun to begrudge him of. Pleading with Vanessa for attention usually led to him coming to Perry for help. And when Heinz was attempting to be facetious, well—typically it was paired with a sad accompaniment of a backstory and some half-assed non apology thrown into the mix. This, though, was the kind of tone Doofenshmirtz typically used when he being especially vehement about something. He bit his lip, clearly inclined to believe Heinz but still feeling defensive. He settled for what he believed to be a fair medium and finally met his nemesis' eyes.

 _You ran._ The look he wore, unbeknownst to him, carried a silent plea. He didn't want to be dragged down memory lane in the worst way possible. _Away from me. When I saw you._

"Of course I ran. I knew what you would think." That oddly gentle note carried in Heinz's voice again. Perry wasn't sure what to do with it, or how it made him feel. "I'm a _schnitzel_ of a man, Perry the Platypus. You know that. You weren't _supposed_ to find me up there. Heck, I don't even know how you did it. But I haven't tried it on with Peter the Panda since the beginning of last _summer._ The only reason I kept going up to Seattle was because it… well. It's a good place to _plan,_ every now and then. Lots of rain, good atmosphere, loud angry-sounding music... Really gets your inner _villain_ going. You know how I feel about you seeing my _-inator_ plans. That was one of my favorite coffee shops. Peter just… happened to find me _first._ I tried to tell him I wasn't _interested,_ but…"

Heinz lifted one bony shoulder into a shrug, while Perry was left to ponder the validity of his words. What he said certainly lined up with the lack of communication from Monogram—if he truly were 'trying it on' with Peter every time he went up to Seattle, he certainly would have heard about it. Heinz being 'on the move' was different from 'Doofenshmirtz being up to something', given his usual reports. Perry swallowed a mouthful of blazing hot tea, letting the liquid burn down his throat to keep himself grounded. It wouldn't do for his paranoia and insecurity to overtake him now.

"Now that I think about it, it was kind of _creepy._ He just appeared. Out of nowhere. Didn't even ask if I wanted any—he just, went to go get some." Perry's jaw clenched as he bit back an angry huff. He wanted to hear exactly _none_ of what Peter did, but he was still reeling from what his nemesis was telling him. He watched as Heinz slid his hand across their still-empty table, index finger tapping against the glazed wood before he shrank back an inch or two. It reminded Perry of how little affection he'd received, and how deeply he must have felt about the situation to put so much effort into the words.

He reached to slide his hand across the table and twined their fingers together, just barely. His nemesis was a braver man than anyone would suspect, and he could already feel himself aching at the thought of it.

(He was such a fucking goner.)

Perry cocked his head at his companion, wordlessly asking a question. Much as he appreciated the sentiment, he still didn't understand the importance of why Heinz felt he needed to talk about this—or why he felt the need to do it over breakfast.

"I'm _good_ now," Doofenshmirtz mumbled, looking distinctly uncomfortable with the admission. "I'm good. And I don't have to prove that to anyone, but… this is a _big_ change. And I wanted to start it off _right,_ so… so I had to. I had to tell you. I didn't want it to weigh on you. Or us. And—you know, I meant it when I said you were my _best friend._ Besides _Balloony_ , of course, but we know how _that_ worked out. I mean… I didn't want us to end up, uh, like _that_."

Perry's blood seemed to rush in his ears. _He said 'us'._ It made him feel like he was twelve again. A wave of affection almost paralyzed him as he offered Heinz a weak smile across the table and gently squeezed his hand.

"Heh. That was a _really_ emotional workout, wasn't it?" Heinz's smile widened, although he seemed unable to meet his eyes. Instead they rested on their entwined fingers, while the waiter (hesitantly) approached their table once again. Perry nodded, and reached over to flick his forehead to catch his attention.

 _Thank you,_ he signed, slowly, so that Doofenshmirtz would understand the gravity of it. Then, he tilted his head at the approaching waiter and smirked. Heinz could make it up to him by paying for brunch. He would need a little more strength if he was going to bring up an _equally_ emotionally exhausting topic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It always weirded me out that no one covered the events of "Meapless in Seattle", but hopefully my take on it brings it all full circle.


	4. Confiding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confide (v): to impart secrets trustfully; discuss private matters or problems.

"Sooo? What was it you wanted to _tell_ me?"

Perry shook the question off with a wave of his hand as they exited the restaurant, deciding that he could always tell his friend later. After the events of the last hour, he needed a little time to process and calm his still-racing heart. There was always time for him to reach out later—Heinz would hardly be opposed to spending the day with him, surely; and he doubted that he had any plans (he would have outright told him so). So he merely gestured toward the local park as a suggestion, hoping that he would follow.

"Huh. You know, I always imagined what a _regular_ day for you would be like. Turns out it's not so different—I mean, you're even wearing the same clothes. Not that, uh. Not that it's not a _good look_ for you…" Perry's mouth quirked into the smallest of smiles, gaze alight with amusement as he glanced at Heinz out of his peripheral vision. His ears were turning pink, and he was biting his lip in that way that meant he was preventing himself from saying anything else.

He reached over to give a gentle tug on the lab coat his nemesis wore, beginning to lead him down the park's cobblestone path before his hands found their way into his pockets. Sometimes he brought Phineas and Ferb to the park, provided he had the time, and he'd come to find that it was a lovely place to simply reflect on his life and the world surrounding. Even though his nephews tended to have overactive imaginations (he had seen some fascinating things in this park) it still acted as a balm for his often frayed edges.

"I don't remember the last time I just… _took a walk._ " Trust Heinz to fill the silence. Perry nodded, allowing the soft fringe of his hair to fall into his eyes. There were a few people in the park on Sunday, although it seemed to him that most people preferred to stay home and relax. Joggers passed them on the way, and dog lovers played with their beloved pets off in the grass. When was the last time he had taken a walk without his boys? Perry blinked, realizing that he couldn't remember either. OWCA always came calling, even when he asked for a little time off.

"—And I think the last time Vanessa and I were here, she ended up playing Queen of the Playground. Just because I told her she should make a few more friends. Imagine." Weak laughter accompanied the memory, while Heinz ruffled the tuft of brown hair atop his head. Perry could easily imagine a young Vanessa simply taking over the entire playground by glaring at her peers and standing high upon the jungle gym. Well, at the very least, she had been… social. "You know, it's _strange._ My life, I mean. To think about. My best friends have been a secret agent bent on destroying my inventions and a _balloon._ My marriage ended in divorce. Sometimes I think even my own _daughter_ hates me. My mother certainly does. But it's a good life. Not the best one, maybe. Not like _Roger's_ , I guess, but it's… alright."

Perry bit the inside of his cheek, wishing he could offer more support; wishing he was able to reach over and openly hug the man who clearly needed someone to tell him that he was _worth_ the space he currently occupied. As it was, he merely reached over to hold and squeeze Heinz's hand, giving him a meaningful look. Usually it pulled a smile from him, but this time, in a worrying fashion, he merely grimaced and looked down at the ground.

Perry thought back to the conversations they'd had over the past few days, about how Heinz had renounced his evil ways, and wondered at how much strength it took to be able to face all of the pain he'd been dealt without even his most favored outlet to release his emotions. He squeezed his hand a little harder, and pointedly ignored the people glancing at them out of the corners of their eyes.

They ended up in a small glade, where the park held a small fountain and a few benches surrounding. Perry ignored the benches in favor of a tree, pausing only to give Heinz a gentle shove ("Ow! Hey, no need for that!") until he rested on the ground beneath the shade. Perry arranged himself so that his head rested in his nemesis' lap, legs folded at his ankles and a deep-set frown decorating his features. He used to hate the fact that Heinz was down because it meant that his -inators would be less inspired than usual. Years later, he found that beyond all that—it mattered, in no small way, that he at least attempt to ensure Heinz's happiness. Hopefully, he just needed a prod in the right direction.

Perry dug into his pocket until he withdrew his wallet, russet eyes glancing at each photo of himself and Doofenshmirtz only to flip through them and retrieve another well-hidden picture. He stared at it for a moment or two, hesitating and feeling entirely too exposed. He handed the picture over anyway.

"What's this?" Heinz asked, looking mystified. He stared at the singular figure in the photo, blinking in bewilderment as he turned the picture this way and that.

 _Trust,_ Perry expounded simply. Heinz was working so hard to be a good man; OWCA had ordered him to watch over this progress, but he was already beginning to get the feeling that he needn't do that much longer. Which meant, in all respects, that his ex-nemesis deserved at least a piece of what he'd been longing for. _Recognize him?_

It took Heinz several moments. He continued to stare intently at the face displayed In the picture, hat cocked rakishly upon his hair as he scowled at the camera. Perry merely stared up at him, waiting to see if his friend would connect the dots.

"Is this _you?_ " The words came out in an incredulous breath, as if he thought they must be two different people. Knowing Heinz, he probably would have rationalized it that way—Perry, on the other hand, didn't think there were too many people in the world who had teal hair or who looked quite like him in general. "Wow, I—didn't _expect_ that. You look… uh."

Perry cocked his head to the side, watching as Doofenshmirtz gestured at nothing. He felt as if he knew what his companion wanted to say: that he looked happier, that his eyes shone with pride rather than the jaded expression he usually wore. He remembered having taken that photo sometime around his sixteenth birthday, though he had largely stopped celebrating it at that point. One of his team had insisted on taking at least one… and so he'd kept it, mostly as a reminder of what he'd been like before the world had thrown him to the proverbial wolves.

Heinz seemed to appreciate it, though, and that made it that much more important.

"The band on your hat is yellow," Heinz pointed out, seemingly delighted by all the small changes he could see in the old profile. Settled to see his friend stepping out of his shell once more, Perry flickered another smile up at him and laced his fingers together atop his chest. He could feel his heart thundering against his ribs, knowing he had never—and likely _would_ never—share such a piece of himself with anyone else. Not even Major Monogram had access to such personable information, though he knew that the events concerning his earlier days in OWCA were definitely documented with regularity. "And look at your little smirk! Boy, you were always the smooth operator, huh? Even back then, you were kind of _cute._ All you needed was a girl on your arm. Or a… guy, I guess."

Perry snorted. He knew and had experienced the mechanics of sex, but a relationship? He signed, _too busy,_ and grinned when Heinz huffed a laugh.

"I bet you were. Saving the world one mission at a time." Doofenshmirtz had put a note of falsified scorn in that sentiment. Perry could feel a slight chuckle hitching in his chest. "Sooo… what _was_ your first mission?"

He frowned, pondering the thought, and shrugged. _R-E-C-O-N._

"Really? I would have thought they'd make you—you know. _Hone your skills,_ go blow up an _inator_ or something."

Perry did laugh that time. Heinz had such faith in him. _Wasn't always that good._

"Could've fooled me." Doofenshmirtz was leaning on an open palm now, balancing an elbow upon his knee some ways away from Perry's head. They were staring at each other now, upside down, but he still felt a strange peace mingled with a rush of excitement. It wasn't a far stretch for him to say he _enjoyed_ being this close to Heinz, and he could certainly see himself getting quite used to this proximity. "You were so young, though. I mean I—uh, recognize the _hat,_ you know. I know what that is. You really spent your _whole life_ with OWCA?"

Shoulders lifting in a shrug, Perry merely gazed up at his companion. He'd never really given much thought to how much of his life was devoted to the Agency—he just knew he was good at what he did.

" _Geez._ Even _I_ at least branched out into poetry. I mean, for a _little_ bit. But still. Don't you have a hobby? Actually, never mind. I can _definitely_ picture you as a workaholic."

Perry's eyes narrowed at that. He reached up to tug a small lock of brown hair and twist it between nimble fingers, until Doofenshmirtz swatted his hand away.

"I'm just _saying._ Makes me glad we have those _movie_ nights. You need to _relax_ a little more, man."

Another shrug. He wasn't sure how to explain to Heinz the nightmare that resulted in all of his missed, denied, or overtaken vacations. That was apparently the price of being the Agency's best operative, but he worked at pushing the bitterness away. Besides, he had Doofenshmirtz to keep him company on his work days. Or rather, he used to.

"Okay, _fine._ " Doofenshmirtz huffed, shaking his head. His free hand played random patterns against Perry's shoulder. It tickled a little, but he stayed still and wondered what sort of pattern Heinz might be imagining as he toyed with the edge of his jacket. "Thanks for… you know, _showing_ me. I almost gave up on ever learning anything about you. Besides your _cousins._ How many cousins do you _have,_ anyway?"

Perry opened his mouth, then shut it. He wasn't entirely sure exactly how many cousins he had — even the Flynn-Fletcher family were considered distant relatives of his. He made a vague gesture with his hand after placing the photo of himself in the pocket of Heinz's lab coat.

"You don't _know?_ I mean I guess I can't _talk,_ you saw how many people were at my family _reunion—_ and that didn't even count a couple of relatives from _Drusselstein._ What about your mom and dad? Siblings? Stuff like—"

Heinz stopped, staring down at the suddenly blank expression on his face. He bit at the corner of his lip as he watched Perry's close, as if doing so would physically push away the unsettling expression. When they revealed themselves again, Doofenshmirtz was disappointed to see that some of the guardedness Perry habitually wore had returned.

"Not ready, huh?" Doofenshmirtz muttered as he brushed some hair away from Perry's face. When he turned away, gaze fixed upon the grass, Heinz made a sympathetic noise at the back of his throat. "Backstories can be hard to face sometimes. I would know."

He couldn't seem to help the sardonic grin that appeared when Perry cocked an eyebrow up at him. Clearly his nemesis remembered various different backstories of his own; ones that were displayed publicly and had been played out through song and dance. "It's not _always_ like that. Sometimes there are things you're just… not ready to share, Perry the Platypus. That's you. You're not ready. I've had more than enough time to sit and stew over all this stuff."

Heinz waved an errant hand through the air, as if it was filled with all his life's problems he could simply brush away. Perry admired him for that; he sometimes wished that he could simply let go of certain things—build them away, or even simply forget them the next day like his nephews seemed prone to doing. He let out a sigh as he gazed up at the canopy covering them, inevitably meeting Doofenshmirtz's gaze. Often he questioned if he would _ever_ be ready to discuss the frustration present due to his abandonment, or if he would end up keeping his silence and burying it along with everything else. Lawrence would most likely tell him that wasn't healthy, but it seemed like the easiest way to deal with such problems.

To mitigate the oncoming ache, Perry reached to pinch the bridge of his nose. His aunt and uncle had never been particularly inclined to explain exactly how he had come about, and although it bothered him to some degree, he often had more pressing matters to worry about.

"Huh. Must have been a real sore spot for you," Heinz guessed. His fingers were still playing across his shoulder in some semblance of comfort. Perry made a quiet chirring noise, somewhere between agreement and annoyance. "That doesn't mean you're gonna stop sharing things with me, does it? 'Cause I was enjoying this. I mean I _never_ get to relax and listen to _your_ backstory, so it's really refreshing. Not that I'm… listening. I'm… I'm more _seeing_ than anything else. Because you're, you know, _signing_."

One of Perry's infamously flat looks appeared, steadying Heinz into a sheepish chuckle as he rubbed the back of his head. Perry wasn't nearly as interested in reliving his past as his nemesis tended to be, but he wouldn't stem his excitable nature given how much effort he'd made just to be able to share this relatively small part of his life. A therapist would probably call it a step in the right direction. He knew that the doctor would keep his word, so there was very little to worry over. Besides—on some level, it felt _good_ to be able to share himself in such a personal way.

 _Don't tell anyone._ He was only half-joking.

"Oh, very funny. Ya know, just because I _talk_ a lot doesn't mean that I'm going to start blabbing about your super-secret _spy things._ " Doofenshmirtz was waving an arm in the air again. Perry cocked an eyebrow, rather used to this typified agitation. If they weren't alone in the park, Heinz would already have blabbed just by utilizing the volume of his voice. "I'm just… glad you _trust_ me, that's all."

Perry chose not to say anything. Instead he took Heinz's free hand and gave it a small squeeze, curling their entwined hands until they rested upon his chest. In retrospect, he was being far too overt—never in his life had he been this attached to someone; he thought his family would likely have conniptions if they realized how absurdly _open_ he was being. But it was easy to do with Heinz (not in the least because the man was so oblivious to _everything_ ), and he didn't really mind letting his walls down for just this moment if they so happened to be alone. Doofenshmirtz gulped audibly, and Perry's lip twitched into another one of his barely-there smiles.

"The, uh, younger _you_ thing—is… is _that_ what you wanted to show me?"

Teal strands fell obscured his gaze as Perry shook his head. The reasons he had done so were many and varied, but he didn't necessarily need to face these feelings for Heinz to want to share parts of his life with him. Being 'Agent P' was a lonely life to lead. It meant he could trust largely no one, but he would bet everything he had that he could trust Heinz Doofenshmirtz with his life. He deserved to have that kind of devotion repaid, even in some small manner.

"You know what's weird? No one else _does_ this." Heinz looked between them; Perry thought he saw some nostalgia contained in his expression. "You'd think they'd catch on. I mean, six years, somehow, we're _still_ the odd ones out."

Perry's expression grew affectionate as he squeezed his nemesis' hand again. Heinz was no longer 'one of them'. He had overcome the constraints of evil and made something better for himself. Still, he understood the sentiment. The producers of the Dr. Feelbetter show still pestered them for follow-ups, and there were still rumors running all over OWCA of their supposed involvement. He couldn't even pinpoint Peter and his own nemesis being this close, given the oddly possessive behavior Professor Mystery had displayed. But he couldn't deny that it felt wonderful to share something so unique. They had become something akin to family for each other, and some part of him eagerly awaited the day that he could share _both_ sides of his life with his nemesis.

The leaves rustled above them as they descended into a tranquil silence. Perry's eyes remained locked on his companion's, and he was left drowning in idyllic notions of staying in this position forever. For so long, he'd remained the calm, cool, aloof agent that OWCA had trained him to be. There had never been a person he could say that he'd been so deeply and desperately attached to. It was considered a _weakness_ in his line of work, and a part of him could hardly understand how this could have come about. With his _enemy,_ no less. That was certainly one for the books.

Perhaps it was that sense of serenity that led him to such a point. The fact that he could stay here, resting upon the man contrived as his eternal antagonist, filled a hole he had never even thought to acknowledge. That was the reason he let go of Heinz's hand, snapping his fingers to catch his attention while he had been distracted by a nearby anthill. If he were to choose any other time to ask… why not now, when it felt as if the two of them were in their own small world?

Perry flexed his fingers and bit his lip as his companion glanced down at him, head cocked. His eyes focused on his hands, poised to interpret anything that the agent might want to say. He couldn't help but feel a small surge of affection for him then.

(He was getting too soft; how he had managed all of this sentimentality was still beyond him.)

The word _Heinz_ formed through skillful fingers, while he felt his heart begin to beat that much faster. He was really going to do this. He was absolutely insane. _Would you like—_

"Agent P!"

Perry had to physically bite down on his tongue to prevent the clicking growl threatening to emerge. A loud huff of irritation escaped him anyway.

They both turned toward Perry's wrist, Heinz's irritation readily mirrored by his own thunderous expression. Major Monogram seemed unruffled by the tense nature which he'd created—instead he cleared his throat, looking more businesslike than Perry had seen him in months. His eyes narrowed as he brought the watch closer to his face.

"We need you out on the field _immediately._ Seems we have a new mischief-maker on the loose. Agent H was investigating, but it looks like he's been caught flat-footed. Heheh. Get it? Flat-footed. Because he's… he's a hedgehog. His feet are flat."

"Good one, sir."

Perry pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Seriously? I-it hasn't even been _two months_ since I switched sides. Isn't there some sort of, like, _mourning_ period for nemesis-ship or something?" Heinz's indignation drew the Major's attention enough for him to wave dismissively at the camera.

"Pipe down, Heinz. The only reason you're still here is because we didn't want to risk you falling through the trap door in the tree."

"What?"

" _Nothing!_ Nothing," Carl interjected. Sighing, Perry rubbed the heel of his hand against his forehead. He could feel a headache forming.

Monogram rolled his eyes and turned back to the operative in sight. "Agent P, we're sending you coordinates now. Get over there and make sure that miscreant gets put in his place!"

This time, Perry did let his growl escape, watching as coordinates began to scroll across his watch face. What a disaster. With the mood completely ruined, he turned helplessly to Heinz and watched as he offered a slight, offhand smile.

"Well, uh, _go on,_ I guess. Y'know. Save—save Danville. From… being _taken over._ Heh." Doofenshmirtz rubbed the back of his head again, sheepishly glancing down at the ground as they both took to their feet. Perry sighed, snapping his fingers again. Heinz would _always_ be his nemesis, but he wasn't satisfied with _just_ that. Not anymore. Hopefully, he would get the chance to prove it.

 _Dinner,_ he signed quickly, knowing that he was already running short on time. He would normally be on his way to Doofenshmirtz Evil, Inc. right now, but today was an entirely different ballgame. _Saturday? At seven?_

"What, you want to have a _pizza_ night? Sure, I'm free then." Heinz's eyebrows rose at Perry's vexed expression. "What?"

Perry took a breath and came close. He could feel the matching inhalation Heinz took as his palms pressed against his cheeks, and the way the world seemed to still as he gave him the softest, most tender look he could manage.

 _No,_ he signed slowly, emphatically, when he was sure he'd caught Doofenshmirtz's attention. He willed him to understand, hoping that all these years together had taught Heinz _something_ of his mannerisms. _Dinner. Saturday. At seven._

"Oh… uh, you—Oh. _Oh._ " The affection returned to Perry's features, his lip quirking up into a satisfied smile. Perry couldn't help but watch as a delicate flush appeared on his nemesis' narrow face, wishing he had enough time to relish the moment (despite the fact that it felt like his heart was about to leap out of his chest). "Yeah—I mean, _ja!_ I mean… uh— _verdammt._ You know what I mean. Seven. Saturday. _Yes_ , Perry the Platypus. Yes."

Perry's answering grin may as well have lit up the whole park, and for that Doofenshmirtz only flushed a shade or two darker. He chuckled again, stuffing his hands in his pockets and hunching in on himself subconsciously. Still, he offered him a nod goodbye while Perry tipped his hat at him, spinning on his heel to attend to OWCA's latest request.

When he glanced back over his shoulder, he smirked to himself. Heinz was dancing and whooping underneath the tree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, we've hit 100+ hits! 
> 
> I suppose I could read that as people are clicking it and not reading it, but I'm honestly flattered enough that people care enough to do that. Thanks guys!
> 
> Special shout out to Kereea for being on board from the beginning. :P


	5. Perplexing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perplex (v): to hamper with complications, confusion, or uncertainty.

The self-satisfied smirk he wore didn't dissipate until he was almost to his destination, allowing himself to feel and process the swelling relief and euphoria which Heinz's acceptance had caused in him. He could hardly believe his luck—it had always seemed to Perry that, despite the odd attraction between them, Doof had never acted upon what he had always suspected was bisexuality. He could hardly ever remember his nemesis having a _boyfriend,_ but with Heinz, who truly knew? With his stomach still doing flips, he willed his heart to calm and brought himself from over-the-moon Perry Fletcher back to OWCA's best agent.

Stale air greeted Perry as he hopped off of his motorcycle in order to examine the decrepit building Monogram's coordinates had led him to. Located in the slums of Danville—a place most people tended to forget about—the entire environment gave off a distinctly unwelcome vibe. The agent observed the area with a wary eye, unwilling to give away his position so easily. Retrieving his grappling hook was as easy as taking a breath. In just a moment, he had pulled himself up the side of the building and in through an open window. From a cursory glance, Perry could tell that the room had remained unoccupied for quite some time.

The tense line of his shoulders failed to relax. An agent had been unresponsive for what was now several hours, and Perry had a prickling feeling at the back of his neck that something was _different_ about this particular criminal.

The door leading outside slid open with little effort once its lock clicked out of place, freeing him to slip into the hallway and blink in order to adjust to the darkness. Unlike the bright, garish colors of Doofenshmirtz Evil, Inc., it was as if he had stepped into some bizarre second (third?) dimension; no whirring machinery, no loud maniacal laughter, no greeting whatsoever.

Perry frowned, and crept up the stairs.

What little sound could be made out of the gloom, he picked up with sharp ears. Using that sense to guide him through the debris strewn about the floor, Perry picked his way upward, listening to what he assumed was a regular evil-doer prattling on about his standard Machiavellian scheme. He took the stairs one at a time, doing his best to ascertain whether the next step would creak and alert the pair to his presence. It seemed that he'd gotten far too used to Heinz's straightforward methods, as Perry had to stamp down hard on a flare of irritation given how long this was taking. Still, he was OWCA's top agent for a reason.

"Quite the idyllic place, Danville," the voice beyond the door continued. Now that he could hear him clearly, Perry pressed his back against the wall adjacent, listening hard for any indication of Agent H's welfare. "Full of life and laughter and sunshine and _goodness._ It's disgusting. How the so-called _villains_ of the Tri-State Area have managed to survive this long is beyond me. But then I suppose you contribute to that, don't you? You and the rest of OWCA's filthy little lapdogs. Like the one standing outside, for instance. Come in, Agent P. Mustn't dawdle."

For a moment, he frowned. Before he'd arrived, he'd made sure that no cameras would impede his progress — and more than that, he was well-renowned for his stealth skills. So how, exactly, had Agent H's captor noticed his arrival? Biting down on the chirring growl bubbling up from his throat, Perry narrowed his eyes as he slowly pushed the door open.

A sudden flare of blue lighting blinded the operative so that he had to squint against the brightness, doing his best not to show any sort of agitation as he faced his newest foe. Beyond the glow he glimpsed a skeletal form, taller even than Doofenshmirtz and bearing down on the agents with a jaundiced eye. Perry could tell that a battle had just concluded by the deep breaths he was taking, and the myriad of objects lying haphazardly on the floor. But the entity didn't seem terribly inclined to defend himself any longer, and the agent could clearly see why. Before him lay a man Perry recognized by the ubiquitous brown fedora, leaving him to bite back another startled chirrup. Agent H lay trapped between the two men, blood spreading across the floor beneath him as he forced out painful, labored breaths.

"Unorthodox, I know. But it seemed so silly to abide by your rules—given the characteristic depravity of a ne'er-do-well such as myself." The shadow gestured at the figure lying before him, sounding amused at his predicament. Perry's fingers twitched, the agent's cool exterior refusing to betray the restlessness growing at the sight, while the pair of operatives exchanged wordless glances. He itched to do something, to avenge the tortured look on the younger man's face, but he would hear the villain out, just in case the bastard let something slip. "Besides, I thought you would appreciate the joke. Animals get caught in these all the time. Isn't that what your silly code names are based on?"

Perry let his gaze drop further to observe his downed comrade. Agent H's foot was caught by a savage looking bear trap, the blades digging so well into the skin that Perry thought he could see a hint of bone amidst the gore. He saw bruises and deep lacerations mottling pale skin through his torn clothing, and suspected that he was likely nursing a few more serious injuries that couldn't be observed by the naked eye. Unbeknownst to the two other occupants of the room, Perry suppressed a small shudder. Deadly devices, the risk of sudden peril—things like this had been covered in training, but it had been a long while since he had seen such vicious behavior displayed in an OWCA-assigned nemesis. He briefly recalled his own traps set by Dr. Doofenshmirtz—purposely set cages and restraints. The times he resorted to things like a laser meant to sear him in half were few indeed.

Then again, this _wasn't_ Harvey's nemesis. He was just a new face; someone who saw Danville as an opportunity and thought to encroach upon its well-protected grounds. Not every criminal held a signed-and-sealed contract with the Agency. He didn't even necessarily believe that he hadn't run into a few within the Tri-State Area. The Regurgitator hadn't been in their books, to his knowledge. But a tried-and-true villain like this, skulking around Danville? Perry didn't like those prospects. Not one bit.

The tall shadow yet carried on. "—But really, it was quite rude of him to drop in like this. It isn't as if I'm up to anything _particularly_ evil today. Just the occasional top-up. Petty larceny, arson, that sort of thing. And it isn't even me that's doing it. You'll want my henchmen for that."

Perry bit the inside of his cheek as he processed the given information. Henchmen meant that this man had followers—a syndicate of lesser criminals who were willing to take the fall for his whims. If Harvey had been investigating Danville's newest threat, it was quite possible that he had tailed one such man right to this building, and into his waiting grasp. Before he could start forward to fully inspect the downed agent, his erstwhile host interjected again.

"Ah, but where are my manners? Abraxas Crowe, at your service." The operative's impassive stare narrowed as the man swept into an elaborate bow. When he straightened, he continued, "and you, of course, are the renowned Perry the Platypus, top tier OWCA agent and spy extraordinaire."

Then he leered. "…But, I think, better known as 'Uncle' Perry Fletcher, occupant of 2308 Maple Drive."

Perry's blood ran cold.

"Don't look so surprised. Unlike that simpleton Doofenshmirtz, I know how to do my research. I've been watching you for quite some time. Not to worry, I won't tell anyone." Abraxas held a finger to his lips, as if shushing himself against spilling Perry's greatest secret. "The game is less fun that way."

 _The game?_ Perry thought, still reeling from the shock. He allowed nothing to show upon stoic features, instead glaring and shoving his hands into his pockets in an effort to keep from rushing across the room to throttle his opponent. Who did this Crowe think he was, and more importantly, what was he going to do with the uncovered information? With his heart still pounding, he deliberately stepped forward into the open space, bending to slip Agent H's ankle out of the trap's jagged blades. Blood coated his fingers as he worked the limb free and waited for another hidden device to spring on them, surprised when he stood and Harvey's captor simply continued to observe the two.

"What? I told you, I'm not up to anything. At least, not today." Crowe spread his arms, as if inviting Perry to investigate. A passing glance around the room revealed largely nothing, which only prompted a deeper frown on the agent's stolid features. The only piece of machinery that looked vaguely like a functional -inator stood in a corner of the room; a telescope, pointed toward a curtained window and angled up to the sky. "But it doesn't take much to trip that silly -inator alarm of yours, eh? Why, I bet a broken toaster would set off such a sensitive device. Well, not a fair bet, I suppose. My esteemed guest interrupted me before I could test that hypothesis. I simply had to teach him that breaking and entering wasn't good manners. Imagine! Waltzing into someone's home and sneaking about like a common thief. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Well, no matter. Lesson learned, wouldn't you say?"

Derisive laughter echoed around the room as Crowe stepped forward and into the light, while Perry stood his ground. Agent H, though weary, attempted to stand and merely wavered until he rested upon the older operative's shoulder. Instinct told him he should continue the battle—show Abraxas Crowe exactly why he shouldn't toy with OWCA and its distinguished agents. But with a severely injured man at his side and no real reason to do so (other than to wipe the smarmy smile off of his face), Perry wasn't exactly willing to test the rules of engagement. Just because Crowe wasn't doing anything today didn't mean he didn't have something else hidden up his sleeve, and he was loathe to risk Harvey's well-being to stroke his own ego.

"Let us part with an understanding," the villain intoned, stepping fully into Perry's personal space. Perry smelt his putrid breath and bit his tongue against another growl. His hackles rose at the simpering expression Crowe wore beyond the oily black strands curtaining his face. "Things are about to change around here, Mr. Fletcher. _Drastically._ I would suggest that you and your organization do your utmost to stay out of my way, lest you find yourselves wanting for new recruits. Make no mistake, his punishment could have been far worse. Luckily for you, I am a very tolerant man. Most of the time."

Then he straightened, turning to bathe the room in relative darkness as long fingers flicked off the lamp.

"Go now," he hissed, the words seeming to slither off his tongue. "While I'm still feeling charitable."

Perry took the cue, and hauled Agent H out of the building without so much as a backward glance.

* * *

"Hey, Dad."

"Oh, _hiii,_ honey. How's it going? Did you finish your homework? I _hope_ you finished your homework. You know how I feel about you playing on your phone before you do."

Heinz could practically hear his daughter rolling her eyes as she sighed. Not that he particularly cared in this respect -- as a parent, it was his duty to make sure that she walked the best paths in life and grew up to make the soundest decisions possible. She could hardly do that while being distracted by her cell phone. He continued to stir the chocolate scented batter in the bowl clutched in his grasp, his own phone pressed between his shoulder and his ear.

 _"Yes,_ Dad, I finished my homework," she drawled. "I was just wondering if I could borrow the car for the week. Mom is spending the time at Sam's place and the bus doesn't run this way."

"What, Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes can't be _bothered_ to reroute his deliveries?" Heinz clucked in disapproval. "Oh well. That's no _problem,_ sweetheart. I can just pick you up and drop you off."

"Dad! That's so _dorky,"_ Vanessa groaned, audibly slapping her palm to her forehead. "I'm sixteen years old! I can't be seen riding around in the passenger seat like a little kid! C'mon, please?"

"And what exactly do you expect me to do, hmm? I need to get to work too, you know."

"Just have Perry take you. He's going to show up in class eventually anyway."

"Perry the Platypus doesn't have time to — _heeey,_ wait a minute! Are you _implying_ that Perry the Platypus is going to have to come save my bacon because you think I built a conspicuous and potentially dangerous device for tomorrow's _science_ class?"

"Well…" Vanessa paused. _"Did_ you build a conspicuous and potentially dangerous device for tomorrow's science class?"

Heinz glanced over his shoulder, into the workshop where the transcranial ultrasound remote he'd cobbled together this evening sat waiting for his approval. "No. No I didn't."

"Uh huh." Disbelief practically oozed through the phone's speaker. "So, can I borrow the car this week? Please?"

While he poured the batter into an available greased pan and stuck it in the oven, the scientist heaved a sigh. "Look, pumpkin, I'll make you a deal. You ride your bike to and from school this week and you can have the car the _entire weekend._ I'll even overlook _one_ R-rated horror movie. Sound fair?"

"What? So I can go see _Curse of the Zombie Exorcists_ this weekend? Sweet!"

"Yeah. Well, it's not like I'm going to be _needing_ it anyway, seeing as I'm going on a—… _ah."_

He paused there, unsure of where else he could possibly take that sentence.

"A what?" Doofenshmirtz thought he might have heard her bedcovers rustling as Vanessa sat straight. "A date? Are you going on a date? Oh my god! Who is she? What does she look like? Is she cool? …It's not one of my teachers, is it?"

Heinz was silent for several moments. It hadn't occurred to him until just now that hardly anyone knew, or _cared_ to know, that he batted for both teams. Drusselstein was too resistant to any sort of change for him to feel comfortable exploring that side of himself in his youth, and _well._ After marriage, it seemed he had simply gotten comfortable with the idea of simply letting it lie. But he could vividly remember spending a cumulative few hours toggling his dating profile interests from 'Women' to 'Men and Women'. Sometimes, on a few rare occasions (when he found himself dwelling too much on Perry), he even changed it directly to 'Men.' But it never stayed that way for very long.

Scratching the back of his neck, he cleared his throat and began cleaning the baking utensils. "Yeah, yeah! You'll like h _-rrrm,_ this person. In fact, I bet you'd get along well. _Really_ well. Like, so well that it'll almost be like you've already _met_ each other and spent a _great deal of time_ together."

"Uh… great." Vanessa replaced the speaker to her ear, having peeled it away once her father began to ramble. "So when do I get to meet… _this person?"_

"Uh," he echoed, thinking quickly. "We'll talk about that later, honey. Isn't it time for you to get to bed? You've got to be up bright and early tomorrow. Heh heh."

"Dad, it's only seven."

"Yup. Like I said, bright and early! Early bird gets the worm! Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise—err, well, it's a _girl,_ in this case, but-but the sentiment is still the same!"

"Okay, Dad." Oddly, her exasperated laughter served only to remind him of Perry's equally as exasperated expressions. Maybe OWCA was rubbing off on Vanessa a little too much. "Goodnight. See you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, pumpkin." Heinz waited for his daughter to hang up the line, and then fairly collapsed on his kitchen counter. _"Phew."_

What was he going to do?

Straightening to set the timer on the oven, he groaned to himself and rubbed a hand straight down his face. Not for the first time, he reflected that life had been much easier as a lawn gnome. Lawn gnomes didn't have to worry about the fact that they were going on a date on Saturday and had nothing to wear. Lawn gnomes didn't have to worry about how to grade papers over the weekend while their brains were preoccupied with thoughts of love and lust and…— _not_ love. Scratch that. But still. Lawn gnomes certainly didn't have to worry about that. Or how to explain to their daughters that they were maybe-hopefully-potentially planning to begin a long term same-sex relationship with their former nemesis.

If the date went well.

Heinz let loose another groan as he pushed off from the counter, scuffling right past the transcranial ultrasound remote out to his balcony. Ever since he'd removed that billboard he'd been able to observe Danville to his heart's content. Now that he wasn't using the panorama for evil purposes, however, he usually found it soothing enough to settle his often jumbled thoughts. Tonight, though, the city had lost its usual charm.

Certainly it didn't matter to _him_ if he and Perry went on a date. In fact, it would have been a bold-faced lie to say he hadn't thought about it a myriad of times since the two of them had met six years ago. It seemed to him that their being a couple had become a foregone conclusion to any and all of their associates—but that didn't mean _Vanessa_ was okay with it. _Would_ Vanessa be okay with it? Did teenagers even care about this sort of thing anymore? What sort of effect would this have on her social standing? He thought back to his own high school days, and wondered if his only child would be ostracized because one of her parents was deemed _abnormal._ And in his case, even _more so_ than usual.

Slim digits dug past his hair and scratched against his scalp as Heinz retrieved his wallet. He flicked through the innumerable pictures of Vanessa and the equally abundant photos of his and Perry's misadventures, until he found the one he was looking for.

Perry had slipped the photo into his pocket before he left, but it had taken Doofenshmirtz some time to find it there. Now, however, he could take the time to memorize each detail of the image—from the immutable brown of his eyes to the slim, untested form of a much younger Perry the Platypus. There were things about him that had quite obviously changed for better or worse, but he could still see the essence of the same man whom he had taken to brunch that afternoon. The agent had trusted him with this secreted-away part of his life, after half a decade of enforced silence. Heinz had taken the picture out and stared at it repeatedly over the past several hours, but his heart still pounded at the implications that bore. Perry the Platypus didn't trust just _anyone._

"Well," he sighed, his mouth twisting into a half-smile as his mind wandered to more pleasant maybes and what-ifs. "I know _you're_ worth it. I just hope you think _I_ am. Otherwise I don't think she'll forgive either of us."

* * *

"So let me get this straight—you confronted an evil scientist in his lair, didn't blow anything up, and didn't even play fisticuffs? That doesn't sound like a successful mission to me. I'm pretty sure I said something like, 'Make sure to put that miscreant in his place.' Except, you know, with more feeling."

"From the sounds of things, sir, I doubt there was very much for Agent P to even _do."_ Carl continued to peruse the notes offered to him by the debriefing committee, while the three of them stood in the confines of the medical bay. Perry had rushed his charge straight there once he'd made certain that no one was following them, but OWCA had insisted that Harvey be debriefed even as two doctors cleaned and bound his surface injuries. They still didn't even know how many other wounds were present—the door to his room was shut for now. "If you recall, the handbook states that no two agents are to engage the same nemesis at any given point. But he _did_ manage to retrieve Agent H."

"Hm. Stupid rule if you ask me. I still don't like it. But, I… _guess_ it's better this way. Not all villains are covered under our medical policy." Major Monogram stroked his mustache, while Perry rubbed the heel of his hand against his forehead. He was far more concerned with other matters to listen to the two of them prattle on as usual. "We'll have to keep a closer eye on this Crowe fellow. Haven't seen injuries this barbaric since—uh, well, a long time ago. Anyway, Agent P, since you didn't actually cause any property damage or… you know… _do_ anything, you can turn in your report tomorrow. Dismissed."

Perry would have protested if he hadn't been so preoccupied, but as it was, he simply saluted and slipped back into the mechanism which would lead him back home. There were certain times in which it would have been a fool's mistake to act—he didn't exactly need to explain that to Major Monogram, who could easily review the footage taken from the camera in his hat, but writing reports often offered a bit of clarity. At least, to Carl. Who would then do his best to explain it to his superior.

As he slid through the pneumatic tube which guided him home, the man wondered if he was going to be relocated for this. No one had actually covered what would happen if an _unassigned_ enemy happened to discover his secret identity; an oversight, in his opinion, but one which now seemed like something of a saving grace. To his knowledge, there was no note of any such occurrence in the handbook, which meant that as long as he could make sure that Crowe did not engage his family or someone of equal importance, he could hopefully keep all of this under wraps. A flimsy plan at best, but for now, it would have to do.

In a rush of air the tube spat him out, and Perry landed catlike upon the floor within the confines of his lair. Lights flared and machinery whirred to life upon his approach, welcoming their master back into his abode.

Instinctively Perry strode to his computer, allowing the biometric scanners to do their work before his fingers flew over the keyboard. If Crowe thought him important enough to do research on, then it was only common courtesy that he return the favor.

Upsettingly, searches on the name 'Abraxas Crowe' turned up no promising results of their own. Even with his advanced access to the databases he typically perused, he could find nothing on the man save his recent employment at Danville University and two polarizing obsessions with astrophysics and the occult. It seemed, at least on a surface level, Mr. Crowe was nothing more than a regular, everyday citizen.

But then, so had been Heinz.

Hours later, Perry steepled his fingers and hunched forward, staring at the results on his screen with mounting annoyance. He had uncovered nothing so much as an unpaid parking ticket. A complete lack of criminal record for such a man meant that either someone was withholding the information, or they had wiped the slate clean. Neither of those appealed to him—he'd have to find the time to delve deeper into the mystery of Danville's newest filth.

Russet eyes glanced to the digital readout at the corner of his screen, prompting an even deeper frown to mar his features. Two thirty in the morning and he hadn't even started on his debrief. Perry sighed, closing the windows dedicated to his ongoing search, before opening a word document.

Before he began, however, he made sure to book reservations for seven o'clock on Saturday evening. Some things would always take first priority for Perry the Platypus, and Doofenshmirtz was certainly one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I blame the holidays.
> 
> We're getting a little darker here, folks. I think I'm going to have to update the chapter count -- I'm not sure we're going to finish this wild ride up in just eleven.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's been enjoying this, and a double shout-out to those of you who tell me so!


	6. Capitulating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Capitulate (v): to surrender unconditionally; to give up resistance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Why is this chapter so long?' says you.  
> 'Because it is what you have been waiting for,' says I.

As it turned out, the transcranial ultrasound remote happened to be more dangerous than Heinz had anticipated. Apparently the pulsations released between different parts of the brain when applied to a number of people greater than two resulted in some semblance of mind control, and he had been hard-pressed to corral a mob of teenagers once they began to jockey for control of the device. In the end, as Vanessa had predicted, Agent P had burst into the room and crushed the remote just in time to save several teachers from the threat of being stabbed with a number of writing implements. They decided not to assign homework for the rest of the day afterward.

Doofenshmirtz saw Perry at least three more times that week. Each time, their gazes lingered for just a moment too long, and the one day the agent saw fit to stay left poor Heinz so distracted that he could barely get through the rest of the lesson. Vanessa seemed as though she was too occupied in finding out who this 'mystery woman' was to notice the secretive smiles the nemeses shared, or the way the two of them brushed a little too close together when Agent P left to tend to other matters. But once or twice, Heinz would catch her shooting the pair a hopeful expression. It usually only lasted for a second, but it certainly put him more at ease. Maybe he needn't have worried after all.

The entire week, Heinz fretted about each possible aspect of the date. What to wear, what to eat, what to say (or not say, in his case) to avoid embarrassing himself. What was more, he didn't want to embarrass Perry in any way, shape, or form—given the fact that they had both been waiting for this moment for quite some time. He could tell from the almost palpable energy drawing them together. In this case, however, they forewent the battles and Heinz could see clear in the other's eyes just how simple and straightforward this all should have been.

On the day of, he went to get his hair cut and styled, relieved to find that for once in his life he actually _liked_ the way a barber handled the job because it suited his diamond shaped face and brought out his eyes. Maybe there was something to this being good business, after all.

For the next several hours, Doofenshmirtz settled in between tinkering on a bit of machinery and fiddling with various pieces of clothing he'd purchased the day prior. He knew that he wasn't the most fashionable of men. It simply wasn't his area of expertise—so instead he turned to good old Koogle, picking out details until he was finally satisfied with the entire ensemble. He'd never actually told the agent he wanted him to drop dead, but he privately hoped that he would do so when he saw him tonight, given all this effort.

* * *

"Goodness me, look at this mess. You're in a right state, aren't you?"

Lawrence picked his way through the small piles of clothing on the floor and sat down on the bed next to Perry, whom he hadn't seen all day. His younger cousin seemed to have given up on his rampage around the room and now sat, staring at the floor with his hands clasped together and a dopey little smile on his face. He couldn't remember ever seeing him quite this happy; whatever (but Lawrence suspected, _whomever_ ) had such an impact on him must be a truly, earth-shatteringly important thing. When he placed his hand on Perry's shoulder, he was taken aback to see his cousin's brown eyes nearly sparkling as he glanced over.

"Well, well, well," he murmured slyly, causing the younger to scoff. Even then, the little smile didn't leave his face. "Who's the lucky lass, then?"

"Ain't no sheila involved, mate," Perry mumbled, scruffing his hair so that the teal fringe obscured his eyes. A light pink hue appeared on his cheeks as Lawrence drew in a breath.

"Cor, a bloke!"

"Fair dinkum." Perry scratched at his scalp, sighing as he glanced back at the leftover clothing in his closet. "Shut the door, would you? Last thing I need's the boys in here."

"Ah. Right." Lawrence left his side to softly shut the door, wishing not to draw attention to what he now knew to be a moment of importance. Perry was stressed enough as it was without losing his own voice. "Now, details please. Have I met this certain somebody? And where perchance did you meet him? A colleague?"

"Could say that," Perry admitted, finding the idea of Doofenshmirtz as an actuary especially amusing. "Wouldn't know him, though."

"Well, why the dickens not? It's been quite some time since we've moved here you know, and I haven't seen you bring a dinner guest 'round once."

"Streuth, I couldn't do that to you Lawrence. He's a bloody dipstick." There he huffed a laugh. "And he'll give everyone a right earbashing. Don't think the house could handle him."

"Oh, I don't know. It seems capable of handling quite a lot, don't you think?" The older of the two glanced out of Perry's bedroom window, watching his sons building yet another contraption. Perry tilted his head and hummed in agreement.

"S'pose we could give it a go. Down the line, maybe." If he and Heinz ever made it down the line. "C'mere. Help me look, seeing as I knocked back everything else."

"Hmm. Well, let's start with the basics, then. Whereabouts are you taking this special someone tonight?" Perry watched as his cousin began to dig through the available wardrobe, hoping desperately that he had overlooked some critical piece. He didn't exactly have the time to go shopping and get the clothes tailored.

"Ah…" He bit the inside of his cheek, glancing out the window himself. _"Chez Caméléon."_

"Oh, _quite_ special. Steady on!" Perry couldn't see it, but he could practically hear Lawrence's eyebrows rising into his hairline. "Well, we can't just wear any old thing then, can we? Let's see. No, no, no, hmm, what about — no, nevermind…"

He hadn't realized exactly how many articles of clothing he owned until his cousin had almost outed them all. Despite the fact that Perry was the best dresser in the house, both of them despaired over finding anything quite so perfect for such an acclaimed restaurant. Perry didn't want to show up in his everyday attire—and what was more, Lawrence would hardly let him. It seemed like days before the two of them had dug deep enough into the closet for the older man to let out an exclamation of pride, stepping out of the walk-in with a suit in his grasp.

Perry's brows jumped upward. He had completely forgotten about that piece—his blue-on-teal and brown chinos had become something of a uniform, so this particular suit (ash-colored and gleaming gently in the light with its well-hemmed fabric) had been given a fair shove to the back of his wardrobe. Perry stood to run his fingers over the material, exhaling softly in relief and wonder.

"I'll wait outside then," Lawrence suggested, handing the suit over and stepping out into the hallway.

Perry didn't rush through picking his accessories. He donned a white shirt first, but took his time in selecting a vest and tie to go with the jacket, then completed the look with an appropriately colored pocket square. Determined as he was for this to be the night of Heinz's life, the agent wanted to make sure that he had everything down to a T—and that included how he looked the very first time they met as potential partners.

(As he looked in the mirror to inspect himself, he pointedly ignored the flush on his face at the thought.)

"Let's have a butcher's, shall we?" Lawrence knocked on the door and crept back in without waiting for an answer, smiling placidly as he took the time to observe their work. The ash-grey two piece was now accented with a vest colored fresh rainwater, and Perry had fixed a ruby red tie around his neck. A silver tie pin gleamed against his chest, some ways away from a stormcloud grey pocket handkerchief. He appraised the dark brown oxfords for several moments, making sure that they befit the rest of the ensemble, but finally nodded his approval and hummed as he handed Perry a comb to work through his hair.

"Cor, you look like you're ready to meet the Queen," Lawrence laughed, watching Perry fuss with the unruly strands. "The jammy bastard won't know what hit him."

"Yeah… nah—the pleasure'll be mine, I think." Heinz always did tend to go overboard. But then again, he'd only ever seen the man wear his lab coat on dates. Maybe he would be a little too overdressed for this dinner? Before he could talk himself into changing, Perry took a deep breath and turned to look in the mirror. "Lawrence, you beauty, I think you've done it."

"Yes, I rather think I have," he agreed, walking in a slow circle to make sure that nothing was out of place. When he was fully satisfied, he sat back down on the bed and gave Perry a look. "Although I _am_ curious about what makes this fellow so special. I think you just implied he was a twit a minute ago, didn't you? So he must be quite the dish."

"No," Perry emphasized, privately wondering how long it would take to convince Heinz that he was, in fact, attractive in certain ways if not others. "But he's not — he's not _actually_ a… he's just a bit of a dag, right? But he's also funny, resilient, an amazing cook, empathetic, brilliant, and just… mine. He's _been_ mine."

The faraway look in his cousin's eyes as he trailed off caused Lawrence to smirk. "Oh, it's like that, is it?"

"Rack off, Lawrence," Perry countered. "I just mean… _I just mean,_ I've been waiting for this for a long time. And I want this to be special. For both of us."

"Blimey." His companion tilted his head. "Well I'm certainly glad that you've found someone who makes you happy. Only I'm a little tiffed, not knowing the chap. Do I at least get a name for my trouble?"

"Heinz," Perry supplied. The way he almost sighed it out made Lawrence cough back a laugh. "His name is Heinz—and I've got to pick him up in ten minutes, strike me."

"Oh! Well, off you pop. Can't have you lazing about on the job, eh?" He began pushing him out the bedroom door, while Perry shot him a horrified glance.

"Fucking pommie," he grumbled, giving his cousin a playful shove as they took the stairs two at a time. In the otherwise empty house, he could hear Lawrence laughing him out the door. "Don't stay up past your bedtime."

"Best of luck to you, then," Lawrence teased, although he sounded like he meant it. Perry shut the door on his cousin's smirking face, but couldn't help grinning as he crept down to his lair for one of his cars.

* * *

Slicing through Danville's Saturday night traffic, an Aston Martin Vanquish swept through the streets at top speed, led on by its expert driver. On a night like this, he would have loved to put the top down and let the wind fly by, but he hardly had the time—and besides, he'd just spent about four hours getting ready in the first place.

He arrived at Doofenshmirtz's door with exactly one minute and thirty seven seconds to spare; time which he spent making absolutely sure his appearance was in order using the available hallway mirror. With a nod to himself, Perry straightened his fedora before he knocked on the hard wood paneling.

"Coming, coming, hang on. Vanessa, tell me if that's you because I need you to supervise Norm before you leave for the— _…Wow._ "

Perry was unused to having to crane his neck to face Heinz. The man slouched; it was a simple truth that both of them had addressed several times over. But tonight he stood tall, shadowing the agent by half a foot in a fitted suit and his hair artfully textured into a fringe. He blinked once, twice, and wondered at how such a simple change could make his nemesis look so much younger than he actually was, softening his angular features and making him seem more boyish than the untidy mop he normally kept.

As one, their eyes roved downward. While Doofenshmirtz was busy taking in the cut of his own suit, he passed the time by admiring how the pitched amethyst shirt Heinz wore brought out the blue in his eyes, and the endearing way that he'd somehow managed to botch the knot in his tie. Torn between fixing it for him and letting him keep it that way (just because it made him smile), Perry took two deep, steadying breaths and forced his thudding heart to calm. This was a good sign. It meant that Heinz had taken his invitation to dinner very, _very_ seriously.

It also meant that he would have to endeavor not to drool over his nemesis for the rest of the evening.

"Man, you really work the gentleman _spy_ thing, don't you? Everything just falls into place when you do it." Perry watched with immense concentration as Heinz tilted his head, causing the fringe to fall further and frame the indigo gaze trained on him. With an audible in-drawn breath, Perry rocked back and forth once, presenting Heinz with a small gift box so that he would have something to do with his hands other than spend the rest of the evening stroking his hair and playing with that newest addition. "What's this?"

Times like these, he had to wonder how Doof deluded himself into thinking he was somehow inhumanly immune to pressure. While he was unwrapping his present, Perry did his best to corral his expression into one of polite interest. That proved to be too difficult. He couldn't help grinning when Heinz's eyes went wide and he let out a little yelp. "Oh, you got me a new set of _mini-tools!_ Is this because you noticed that one of the tweezers in my old one was missing? You're so _thoughtful_ Perry the Platypus—thank you! Hang-hang on. Come in, I've gotta put these away where Norm can't see them."

That was fair, seeing as how Norm tended to want to touch everything in sight. He strode into the familiar space and cocked his head as his attention was arrested by a distinctly inator shaped device.

"Oh, what, that? It's not evil. It's a de- _slouch_ -inator. See? See? Look at me." Heinz used one hand to gesture at the length of his body, emphasizing that which Perry had noted before. He truly was standing straighter than the agent had ever seen him, and seemed to be doing it with more than the relative ease of a man who was trying his damnedest to look good for the night. Since he had been invited, he raked his gaze slowly across his narrow form and breathed in lightly through his nose. If he didn't know any better, he'd swear Heinz was teasing him on purpose.

"The whole plan was to put myself back when the _date_ was finished, but it kinda feels _good,_ you know? And it's gotten rid of that awful kink in my neck so I might just, uh, stay this way if it's not considered too _eeevil_ to give myself better physical _attributes._ A-Anyway, I know it's not the de- _handsome_ -inator, so I can't, you know, make myself look like a _movie_ star or whatever, but—"

Oh, now that he wouldn't stand for. In the silence of the apartment, the sudden snap of Perry's fingers sounded imperious even to his ears. But he stepped forward nonetheless, and touched Heinz's cheek for emphasis. Eventually, he would have to find a faster way to get his attention.

 _You look incredible,_ he signed firmly, wishing he'd thought to do so as soon as his hands were free. _You always have. Okay?_

"…Okay," Doofenshmirtz muttered, looking timid. Perry knew that he had a rather straightforward personality, but he also knew enough about Heinz to suspect that tone of voice was being driven by something within himself rather than without. Tentatively he reached forward again, giving his partner a soft look until Heinz seemed to pull himself in by the reins. One deep breath later, he sounded that much more confident. "Okay. I am so ready for this. Let's go."

Perry smiled and led his date from the apartment.

* * *

"Oh, man. I am so _not_ ready for this. _This_ is your car? Seriously? You drove here. In that. You _regularly_ drive that car."

Perry glanced at Heinz as he bent to open the passenger door for him and shrugged as if to say: _what of it?_

Heinz folded himself into the passenger seat, indigo gaze wide as he looked from Perry to the gleaming oxblood exterior and back again. _"Scheiße."_

As he fixed himself into the driver's seat, Perry huffed a little laugh. It would be just like his nemesis to be impressed with such a show of grandeur—it was fast, it got the job done, and alright, so he liked to show off a little sometimes. OWCA had had it outfitted with the standard issue spy technology, along with a few more covert requests, so it would stand to be said that Perry took inordinate care of the vehicle. For a moment, he simply sat back to watch as Heinz trailed his hands over the burgundy leather, occupying himself with the look of wonder on his face. One day, maybe he would look at him that way too.

"Wow. There are… there are _gold accents_ in here." Spindly fingers reached to trace one such dial, Heinz's lips parting as if in wait to ramble on about everything else he observed. Perry, satisfied that his nemesis was suitably absorbed in his environment, began speeding his way toward the restaurant.

"There are so many buttons and dials," Heinz murmured, his touch trailing along the vehicle's console. Perry chuckled. He knew they'd get there eventually, but he was as yet unwilling to play the 'how-should-we-destroy-Perry's-car' game. Instead he reached over, his warm touch overlapping with his companion's to guide him to a relatively safe row of buttons. The integrated computational system mounted on the dashboard blinked to life as he and Heinz laced their fingers together.

 _"Hello, Doctor Doofenshmirtz,"_ the computer purred, its distinctly feminine voice reminiscent of the most enigmatic femme fatales. _"How may I be of assistance this evening?"_

"You have a computer system _in your car?"_ Heinz demanded, his eyes widening as Perry bit his lip to keep from smiling. "Um… Hi? What… uh, how do you know—well, you already know _my_ name, somehow, so what's your name?"

 _"Biometric readings indicate passenger is male, age forty seven, weighing approximately one hundred and seventy two pounds. Associated voice recognition software corroborates this passenger to be Heinz Doofenshmirtz,"_ the computer concluded. _"My given designation is: 'Very Expensive Recondite Operatives' Network Intelligence with a Cool Acronym.' You may refer to me as VERONICA. How else may I be of assistance this evening?"_

Doofenshmirtz's jaw dropped. "What? Who named you? What _dummkopf_ can name an AI 'Veronica' but have such a _terrible_ acronym for its own agency?"

 _"I apologize, but that information is classified,"_ VERONICA demurred. Perry coughed suspiciously. _"May I be of any further assistance this evening?"_

"I don't knooow, what else can you do?"

_"My programming algorithms are complex and require immensely immersive study. However, Agent P has informed me that you enjoy music. Please refer to the screen to make your selection."_

"Hey, this thing has Drusselsteinian Power Metal! Wow, you even have actual live recordings of Love Handel's oldest concerts." Heinz flipped through the entire list and picked one of his favorite albums, allowing VERONICA to play the tracks softly in the background. "Hey, wait a second... VERONICA, you're Perry the Platypus' actual car, right?"

_"You are correct, Doctor. Agent P retains ownership of this vehicle and its associated contents. However, the VERONICA artificial intelligence system remains under contract by the OWCA organization and may be utilized by any qualified agent."_

"Yeah, okay." Heinz grinned, looking satisfied. "So maybe you _can_ help me with something. What exactly is 'Perry' short for?"

_"Agent P has asked me not to disclose this information to anyone named or directly related to Heinz Doofenshmirtz. I apologize if this causes any inconvenience."_

"Wha—oh _come on!"_ A sidelong glare met a russet gaze. Perry merely winked at him before he turned back to the restaurant's valet to pass him the keys.

* * *

Perry had no qualms about leading his nemesis by the hand as they approached the venue, their relative ease in each other's presence melding easily into a comfortable intimacy. In his grasp, Heinz’s hand was warm, his fingers wrapped securely in his own as he presented himself to the maître d' and offered a polite nod.

"Ah, _Monsieur Espion,_ such a pleasure, as always. Please, this way to your reservation."

Heinz did his best not to interrupt, although he very much wanted to know how often Perry came to this restaurant if the staff knew him by appearance alone. Yet he was arrested by the elegant interior of the space—soft candlelight lit the dining area via gleaming chandeliers, the pristine white tables decorated with calla lilies in intricate glass-blown vases. Around them, impeccably dressed waiters and busboys crept quietly through the crowd, while in their hands Doofenshmirtz glimpsed dishes cleared and presented on patterned china. He bit his tongue and prayed that he wouldn't ruin their evening by acting like an absolute doofus.

 _"Chez Caméléon,_ huh? Boy, you really pulled out all the stops, Perry the Platypus." Heinz’s eyes were wide with awe, though they softened as he looked away from the glimmering décor and met Perry's gaze. It took a few faltering moments, but soon their entwined hands rose of Heinz's accord, and he pressed cool lips against the back of Perry's palm. "Thanks for that."

He almost tripped as his nemesis dazzled him with a beatific smile.

"You should do that more often," he breathed. Perry looked away and huffed, abashed. "Here, let me."

Clearly surprised, Perry lowered himself into the seat Heinz smoothly retrieved for him. They sat before a blazing hearth, causing the surrounding golden accents to shine that much brighter and cast the both of them in supernal light. A slow but instinctive reach saw their hands entwined atop the table once again, while they each reflected on the night's unfolding events. They both had certain instincts when it came to these intimate affairs, but Heinz was glad to see that even here they meshed well enough to integrate those differences.

The steward appraised them with what Doofenshmirtz hoped was not derision. He held his breath, waiting for his bad luck to come crashing in—but no abhorrence could be found in the man's features, and he simply smiled down at the pair of them with the air of an artist pleased with his work. _"Messieurs,_ enjoy your evening. Jean Claude will attend you."

Jean Claude was an older man with peppered grey hair and a winsome smile. His demure nature balanced well with the enthusiasm with which he greeted the table, and Doofenshmirtz found himself quickly relaxing as two menus were presented to them. As he glanced over the selections (determinedly ignoring the high price points), he watched Perry out of the corner of his eye, listening as the waiter listed a variance of wines to sample.

"A bottle of aged Chianti sounds great," Heinz requested when he caught his companion's querying glance. He was pleased to see Perry’s mouth curl up into an appreciative smile. Jean Claude bowed graciously and swept away.

"I feel like we're in a movie," he said as he watched Jean Claude flounce into the crowd. Through their connected grasp he could feel Perry shake with laughter again and cast him an amused look. "What? You really have that whole suave and mysterious vibe going for you tonight. I-I mean that happens _all the time,_ but right now it's like… _ten times_ more apparent."

 _It's just me, Heinz,_ Perry reminded him. But his eyes were sparkling, and Heinz wished he could bottle the moment just to keep that expression for himself.

"Yeah. But I never get to _see_ this side of you." His eyebrow quirked while his thumb skimmed soft patterns across the back of Perry's hand. "Because you're usually cleaning up after me. OWCA should really open up a maid service."

 _You could stand to be a little less cavalier,_ his nemesis suggested, eyebrows wiggling. Heinz, affronted, huffed and glared across the open space.

"You would get bored and we both know it." Perry winked, and his expression morphed into a sly smile. "I could whip something up right now, even. What do you think? A Pest-Request-Inator? Flies in my soup means free meals, you know. I could trap you with the tablecloths."

He watched Perry purse his lips against a wider smile and glance pointedly up at the numerous chandeliers. The implications were quite clear: the poor inator would be smashed to pieces, his plans foiled once again.

"Ugh. You have an answer for everything, don't you? I really don't know how you do it sometimes."

 _I've had a bit of practice,_ Perry signed innocently. If they weren't in a high-class restaurant, Heinz would reach forward and flick him on the forehead.

"Your wine, _messieurs,"_ Jean Claude greeted as he returned. The bottle was placed in a small ice bucket after he poured a generous amount of wine into each available glass. Then he produced a small notepad and blinked at them expectantly. "Have we decided on our selections for this evening?"

Perry and Heinz broke their mutual gaze and glanced down at the menus once again. Heinz vaguely remembered seeing something appealing before he got so engrossed in the conversation, and struggled to remember what it was while the man across from him held up three fingers.

Politely leaning over the agent's shoulder, Jean Claude jotted down the note. "Coq au vin, an excellent selection. And for you, _monsieur?"_

Doofenshmirtz opened and closed his mouth, surprised that he was being addressed directly. Usually he had to wait to grab anyone's complete attention for a full twenty minutes. "Oh. Uh, Beef bourguignon, I think. Thanks."

"Very well," their steward nodded in satisfaction and bent to collect their menus. "Then excuse me, gentlemen. I shall retrieve your orders."

Perry clearly approved of his wine selection, because he tilted his head as he let it sit on his tongue and made a quiet humming noise. Against his glass, Heinz smiled to himself and savored the hint of strawberries and roses. He didn't exactly know how or why this night was going so smoothly, but he certainly wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Charlene was my first, you know," Heinz appreciated the way that his nemesis leaned forward, because he knew a backstory when he heard one. "Not _like that,_ I'm not that pathetic. But the first person I really thought I could spend my life with. Those other girls, the ones I've told you about—they were passing fancies in comparison. That's the thing about growing up in a household like mine. You always want to believe that there's someone out there just… waiting for you. To love you like you want to be loved, and treat you like you should be treated. When I got married, and had Vanessa, I thought my life was set. That that was it, and I'd never have to look again."

His partner's lip twisted in what he thought was concern, but Heinz merely continued to swirl the wine in his glass as he reminisced. "I think we sort of… _convinced_ ourselves that we wanted what we'd done. But she was always so _cold_ and _distant._ Eventually I started feeling the same thing. Like I wasn't _worth_ the breath it took to say my name. I was tired of the fighting, and the way it was affecting Vanessa, and what it was doing to me. That loneliness, though, it's murder. That's why I… don't think it was real. I mean I _did_ , at the time, you know. But I think I was more in love with the idea than I ever was with her. I've never said this to anyone, but when we divorced, I was kind of _relieved._ "

Perry took a deep breath and squeezed his hand gently. It reminded him that his nemesis, who kept his secrets so close to heart, probably felt lonely from time to time too.

"When I met you, I thought: 'Well, we're nemeses. We're supposed to hate each other.' But I never did. Hate you, I mean. Not really."

Perry's eyes were glimmering again. _Feeling's mutual, Doc._

"That's the thing. The way I feel. Or, _we_ feel—uh, not to say… " immediately he hesitated, but Perry squeezed his hand again, and gave him such an affectionate look that he had to swallow the self-depreciating words. "I just wanted to say that it's… _different._ You're different. _This_ is different. it isn't because I'm lonely. I don't even really _feel_ lonely anymore. Because of you. And I know people usually don't _do_ this sort of thing until like, the _fifth date,_ or whatever. But it's been this way for years. I mean I… _we've_ felt like this, for years. And I don't… really want it to stop. Ever."

For an interminable moment Perry considered him, russet eyes almost glowing bronze in the firelight. His heart thrummed in his chest, nervousness causing him to bite his lip and look away. Laying his heart out on his sleeve was easy for a man who ran his mouth this much, but a deep-set, primal part of him couldn't help the fear of rejection coursing through his veins all the same.

 _You do have a habit of falling,_ he finally teased.

"Whose fault is that?" Heinz retorted. The soft grin he received was worth the jibe.

 _I was yours a long time ago,_ his nemesis said, after several more long minutes. Heinz watched his fingers flex, and wondered at the fact that he had actually inspired timidity in the unshakable Perry the Platypus. _There's never been anyone else. There won't_ be _anyone else. If that's what you want._

"I never really seem to _get_ the things I want," he reminded him, his lip curling into a grimace. Perry lifted his hand to skim a kiss against his knuckles. "The curse of being me, I guess."

 _Then let me give it to you,_ Perry signed, his gaze intense. _Let me be the first. And the last. Please._

"You will be, if this goes the way I want it to." The uneasy expression on his features transformed, bearing a gentle and hopeful look. Despite their tenuous exchange, their linked hands were gripped tightly together, each afraid his companion would let go. Across the table, they shared a gaze rife with the intensity of a long-bred attraction, willing each other to understand what they could not find words for. "I'm tired of dancing. I know what I want. He's sitting right in front of me. So… let's call this what it is, and _really_ give them something to talk about. I think we've waited long enough, don't you?"

Perry let out a bated sigh, his shoulders relaxing. Heinz bit his lip against a grin; he could see the relief evident in his face, but the adoration in his eyes shone brightly enough that it eclipsed everything else. _God yes._

They breathed. The world turned. But for a wondrous few moments, time seemed to still as they reveled in their new pact.

"…As if you could stand anyone else," Heinz joked eventually, tone like a breeze. "Imagine if you were paired off with Rodney instead."

_Dunno, Doc. He's kinda cute._

"In what universe is Rodney _cute?_ I'm seriously beginning to doubt your taste." His nose wrinkled, disturbed by the thought even though he knew that Perry was joking.

_Well, then that explains a few things doesn't it?_

"Wooow. Suddenly I remember why this took six years." Under the table, Heinz kicked his nemesis' shin. Perry smirked at him, locked an ankle around his own, and stayed like that until they finished their dinners and he picked up the check.

* * *

_Bathroom,_ Perry signed before they left the restaurant. He couldn't be surprised—they'd been sitting there for the past three hours, talking and laughing and flirting more openly than they had ever allowed themselves to be. The lights had started to burn low and the restaurant patrons nearly depleted before they had even deigned to think of leaving. So Heinz nodded and stood by the door, a small smile still present.

"Did you enjoy yourself, _monsieur_ Doofenshmirtz?" The maître d' observed him from behind his podium. Doofenshmirtz's eyebrows rose. He didn't remember giving anyone a name during dinner.

"Yeah, I… I did. Did he put the reservation under my name?"

 _"Non,"_ the steward grinned. "But _of course_ you must be the illustrious Doctor Heinz Doofenshmirtz. There is only one man who could put that expression on his face."

"What?" He huffed a disbelieving laugh. "Oh, I get it. He tells you about the inators, doesn't he? I thought that stuff was classified."

"You underestimate yourself." He wagged a finger at Heinz, whose brows rose even higher. His accent grew thicker with emotion. "He has been enamored with you for years and speaks of you all the time. We were beginning to lose hope of convincing him to pursue you."

"…Oh." He blinked, his mouth falling open for a moment. "Wow. I wish I'd known that a _lot_ sooner. I didn't even know this restaurant was open for that long, I— _wait_. Did you say _speaks?"_

 _" Entre deux coeurs qui s’aiment, nul besoin de paroles," _the maître d' quoted airily, in blatant ignorance of his question. "One request _,_ Doctor. Take care of his heart. We both know he deserves that."

Doofenshmirtz, nodding thoughtfully, watched while Perry returned from the bathroom. He frowned, glancing between the two with a furrowed brow until Heinz waved a dismissive hand.

"Don't worry about it," he suggested, taking Perry's hand. "Come on. There are a _lot_ of questions I have for VERONICA."

* * *

"There is absolutely _no way_ that Asvald Bloodpudding is more menacing than _me._ His last name is _Bloodpudding,_ for crying out loud! VERONICA, show me a record of the inators OWCA used for that determination."

_"I apologize, but that information is classified."_

"Classified my ass," Doofenshmirtz grumbled, his arms folding across his chest. Perry clenched his jaw and did his best to keep driving straight. "Can you at least show me _my_ records? I have a right to know, right? It's like a law or something."

 _"I apologize, but that information is classified,"_ VERONICA repeated. _"However, Agent P does have encrypted personal files available for your search on 'Heinz Doofenshmirtz.' You may view these files at his discretion. Would you like to view these files?"_

"Would I!" Heinz sat straight up in his seat, but then hesitated. "Uh, if it's okay with you."

Perry merely smiled, and let the fingerprint scanner read his thumb to open the folder.

"I really wish I had your _organizational_ skills." Heinz observed the innumerable folders revealed on the screen, wondering what could possibly be contained in them all. He saw folders marked PICTURES, RECIPES, BACKSTORIES, and even one dedicated to his most esoteric pet peeves. He licked his lips and tapped BACKSTORIES for curiosity's sake.

"You kept every one," he marveled. "In text and video form."

Looking indignant, Perry huffed through his nose. Of course he kept every single one. He reached over to prod the screen back to the previous selections and pointed out something else he thought Heinz might find interesting.

"'MUSIC'? Hey!" And then his eyes widened as his mouth dropped open. "My songs! I didn't even know you were _recording_ these. Wow! Oh, man. I'm going to look terrible when I'm old. Geez, what else is _in_ here? Let's see…"

Perry spent the rest of the ride in peaceable silence, listening to Heinz's incessant prattling like it was the most soothing sound in the world.

* * *

The Aston Martin saw them home, where Perry retrieved his own key to the DEI building and graciously led its owner inside. Heinz had fallen quiet for the past several minutes, though the agent didn't note any telling traits he had come to worry about. So he left his nemesis to his thoughts, guiding him with hands held until they stood in front of his apartment door.

"…Come in with me?" Heinz queried, seeming to shake himself out of his stupor. "Just for a second."

Perry's head inclined, and so he cracked the door open to allow him inside.

Moonlight spilled in from the balcony, bathing the entire apartment in an ethereal light. Perry stared around the room and immediately felt at peace -- just the same way he did every other time he visited, or even when the throe of battle enveloped him. In a way, this had become his home away from home.

But for now, russet eyes set upon Heinz's slim form. His back was turned to him for the moment, a thoughtful gaze trained across the open space to trace invisible lines on the ceiling.

"So the steward said something funny to me before we left," he intoned, turning to him. "And now I want to ask you a favor."

Surely Doofenshmirtz knew he wouldn't deny him. Perry's head tilted, teal hair partially obscuring his gaze. But he took a step back as Heinz came in close, one long arm wrapping securely around his waist. The other hand took rest upon his cheek, and Perry sucked in a shaking breath as their foreheads touched. Only now he noticed the smallest details—that Heinz had put in the effort of wearing cologne for the night, and how, at some point, he had managed to fix the knot in his tie. With bated breath he waited, but his arms reached to pull his nemesis closer until they stood chest to chest.

"Say my name." The words hung in the air between them, whispered quietly enough to almost be lost in the silence. Perry shivered, closing his eyes to the world and clinging tighter to him. His lips parted, and Heinz watched as his tongue ran across tinted skin. _Scared,_ he realized. For once, Perry the Platypus had lost his footing. No matter. At this point, he had become as adept at catching him as Perry was at pulling him out of the fire. The world stilled for several moments. He waited patiently, content enough to let his own words lie.

"Heinz," Perry breathed, so softly he had to strain to hear him. Perry offered the name like a greeting; the way he would have done, if he'd deigned to speak on the day they met. The way he would have done, every time he stepped across his threshold. The way he would do now, if Heinz could have his way, each time, and every time, they spoke face to face, just so that he could learn the inflection of his voice. But he meant to savor this request, this first of many secrets he would work to uncover. So he bent, and stole it for himself.

Beneath him, Perry trembled at the touch. One single breath he managed to draw before they drifted back together, and soft exhalations feathered their cheeks as they sighed. Tentatively, in tandem, they explored this new contact. Where once Perry had tasted blood, he found the sweetness of conviction. Where Heinz remembered tears and sweat, there remained the piquancy of his own name, and all the acceptance and unexpected adoration that came with it. Addictive, they both seemed to think, because Perry tilted his head up for more, and his nemesis only pulled him closer to oblige.

"Now tell me yours."

Neither of them seemed willing to pull away, so Perry could all but feel the imploration as it passed from breath to breath. The stuttering beat of his heart became a hummingbird's thrum, blood rushing through his veins as he flushed. Heinz's voice had turned rough, and deepened enough so that his knees felt weak. Or perhaps that was the knowledge of how far they had come; how far he would have to go—how far he _would always_ go, just for him. Just for this singular, brilliant, extraordinary man. He slid his hands to the front, up the other's chest to grip at the lapels of his jacket and haul him closer. If he was to lose his balance, then he would rely on Doofenshmirtz to steady him. But Heinz stepped forward instead, forcing him against the door until he could feel the unsteady heartbeat of his nemesis pulsing against his own.

His hat fell away with the pressure, leaving him feeling bare and open as the last measure of his secrecy tumbled to the floor. Perry stared into indigo depths and slid his hands further up. This time, he was the first to lean forward.

"Fletcher," he declared brokenly, each syllable a kiss of its own making. He could feel Heinz's fingers gripping the back of his suit, and the slight ripple of wiry muscle as he bent his forearm over his head to steady their bodies against the wood. Perry clung to him like a lifeline, and felt the halting breaths of a man who only recently began to believe in miracles. "Peregrin Fletcher."

Heinz pressed up against him and held him there by the waist, lips unerringly finding their mark against his own. Perry let him, drunk on the feeling of surrendering the entirety of himself in so many words. Between faltering gasps they kissed, leaving Heinz to weave silent assurances against his pliant mouth. Softly, Perry moaned, and dragged his nemesis closer until he felt sure his name had been branded between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some anticipated FAQs:
> 
> There is more than a sprinkling of foreign terms and idioms here. In this case, Lawrence is being cheeky. To be 'on the job' is a euphemism for having sex.
> 
> For those of you who are visually inclined, Perry's car [looks like this](http://www.parkplaceastonmartin.com/images/models/vanquish-volante/vanquish-volante-overview_img.jpg). The color, oxblood, is similar.
> 
> Don't forget: Perry's mutism is selective here. He can talk if he likes.
> 
> [matarratasgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/matarratasgirl) drew a fabulous rendition of chapter 6's ending called ['Torrid Kiss'](https://66.media.tumblr.com/aae1335f7b4045d0a17c4c9f7fedfe1c/tumblr_pocjor88B51rjtf4no1_500.jpg)! Thank you so much; it's fabulous <3


	7. Infringing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Infringe (v): 1. to encroach or trespass.  
>  2\. to commit a breach or infraction of; violate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mind the rating.

_"He's shy."_

_Peeking out from behind his uncle's pant leg, Perry peered up at the teller who smiled sympathetically at them both. She bagged the groceries for them and sent them on their way, leaving Ethan to guide his charge back to the car._

_"I'm not shy," Perry whispered, as they clambered back into the vehicle. His uncle frowned a little and reached over to pat his knee as the engine revved. "I just don't like it. Talking."_

_"I know you aren't, son," he replied, and worked his way out of the parking lot back to their house where his wife was waiting to prepare supper. "But what are we supposed to tell everyone else?"_

_Perry sighed, and fixed his russet eyes on the other cars trailing by._

* * *

_"Isn't there anything that can be done, doctor? We thought… we just thought, you know, that he'd grow out of it."_

_"I'm afraid not, Mrs. Fletcher," the doctor sighed. Perry listened closely beyond the door and rocked back and forth on the hospital bed. "There's always therapy, of course. But some children simply have a harder time with verbal development."_

_"Well, we can't afford that." That was Uncle, who sounded more annoyed than upset. "Anyway, he's not_ slow. _Kid's brilliant. He's just quiet. I wouldn't mind if it didn't affect his schooling so much."_

_"Just keep talking to him," suggested the doctor. Perry hated that suggestion. It meant he'd have to deal with more prattle than usual. "He'll come around eventually."_

* * *

_"Come on, cuz. Just the one! Then you can have it, I swear."_

_Perry licked his lips, standing on the tips of his toes as he strained high for the lolly that was just out of his reach. The sweets had been a gift from some distant aunt or another—or so that was what Aunt Addy had told them; he rather suspected she'd just wanted to treat them to something nice. Anyway, Gerry had already eaten his, and it wasn't fair that he was holding his own hostage._

_"Just one word? Even 'Ass' would do. 'Cept I reckon that'd make Mum angry."_

_Scowling, Perry balled his fists. There were other ways to get his things back. This was, after all, a very common game._

_He struck fast, swinging his leg in a wide arc to force his older cousin off of his feet. Gerry landed with a whoosh of air and a loud, satisfying 'thump'. Perry plucked the lolly from unresisting fingers and walked away with the prize in his mouth._

* * *

_He was ten, and one of his schoolmates was crying._

_"I just… never got to say goodbye to him," she sobbed, surrounded by her friends. From afar, the teal-haired boy watched and contemplated what he would do if his aunt and uncle died so suddenly. "I can't even remember the last thing I said to him. And now I'll never talk to him again…"_

_What was the last thing he'd said to his aunt or his uncle? Perry couldn't remember. It had been weeks._

* * *

_"Why do you hate me so much?"_

_"I don't hate you," his cousin retorted. They were sitting next to each other, staring out at the backyard where all of Perry's younger cousins were playing in the sun. The pair of them seemed to share a commonality in wanting to do nothing of the sort—one of the only things, Perry had noticed, that they ever really agreed upon. "I just don't think you belong here."_

_"I didn't choose to be here."_

_"Nah. But ya put stress on me olds all the same." Gerry reached to steal a chip from the pile on his own plate, glaring out at the yard with an emotion Perry would label as protective if he wasn't so bitter. "Earn your place. Then I'll leave ya alone."_

_"I shouldn't have to do that. I'm still your cousin."_

_"Just 'cause you're blood ain't make ya family. Now eat your Maccas."_

_Annoyed, Perry glared down at the deep-fried meal set before him before reaching to nibble at a burger. He didn't understand Gerry. He didn't understand his antagonism, or why, after ten years, he still wouldn't accept him the same way that everyone else had. There were cousins with which he got along famously—and then there was this; just enough of a reminder that, despite how hard he tried, he was still an orphan, and a burden on the guardians for which he cared quite deeply._

* * *

_"Hi Auntie."_

_"Well hello, sweetheart."_

_"Hi Uncle."_

_Uncle Ethan clapped him on the back and beamed. "How was term, son?"_

_"It was alright," Perry demurred. He blinked large brown eyes up at his guardians, and tipped the odd little hat that he'd started wearing around the time he'd gone off to boarding school. "I really like it there."_

_"Well, good." Addy nodded, and plopped a plate of his favorite dinner right in front of him. Things had gone a little smoother since he'd decided to open himself up—at least to one or two people in his life who seemed to want it so badly. Perry supposed this was just one of those benefits. Auntie seemed to learn what he liked a little faster. "Now eat up. I reckon you'll be missing these home-cooked meals when you head back after your holiday!"_

_"Yeah," he agreed, actually grinning for once. Ethan and Adelaide smiled warmly and left to gather the rest of the family for dinner._

* * *

_"I think I liked it better when you didn't talk."_

_"Really?" Here they were again, vested against each other while Gerry picked at his nerves. Perry was seventeen, with testosterone and emotional upheaval running high. It was hard to control the urge to draw the weapon hidden at the small of his back and pistol-whip his own cousin just to show him what-for. But that went against the rules of engagement. Anyway, he didn't feel like explaining that mess to his aunt and uncle. "I guess it shouldn't surprise me that your memory only extends that far back."_

_"See? That's what I mean. You wouldn't run your mouth before. You'd just run like a little pussy. Either way, it's no wonder your parents abandoned you."_

_"When have I ever 'run like a little pussy'?" Perry sighed, tugging his hat down over his eyes. He really didn't want to deal with this. "It's no wonder you don't have my fist in your face. Piss off."_

_"Aw, did I hurt the little orphan's feelings? You gonna cry and run to your mum? Oh, wait—"_

_He never got the chance to finish. In an instant, Perry, snarling, grappled the older boy to the ground and landed two well-aimed punches right at his face. Just as promised, he thought savagely. The vindication kept his tears at bay._

_"Just don't fucking speak to me ever again, Gerry. Okay? Keep your gob shut." Perry could hear his own voice breaking, so he released his cousin and sat back, watching Gerry try to mop up the blood running from his nose. When they both stood, Gerry spit at his feet, and Perry only shook his head as his uncle rushed into the room._

_The tears in his eyes didn't prevent his punishment, but Uncle Ethan gave him a hug all the same._

* * *

_It was supposed to be a simple mission. In, grab the hostages, out. He'd been doing this sort of work for so long that it was truthfully beginning to bore him, but an exercise was an exercise. He had to earn his wings before he could fly._

_The kidnappers who had taken these hostages didn't exactly jar him. People stole things for money all the time—and sometimes, that included other people. The ransom they had set was quite high, but they'd never see a penny of it so long as OWCA was on the job. Their team of five had dropped in on the hideout sometime in the early evening, creeping along the sidelines in accordance with the blueprints which had given them the locations of various security cameras and known traps._

_With all of them situated, the commander headed their team into the bowels of the base, where it was Perry who discovered the misbegotten hostages. Bound with wire and gagged with filthy-looking rags, it took them several minutes to untie and check the civilians. Only moments before the burglars found them and opened fire did Perry realize he was staring Gerry in the face._

* * *

_At the funeral, Perry held Aunt Addy in his arms. He couldn't even say 'I'm sorry,' and would say nothing for at least one year after._

* * *

Bathed in the effulgence of a moonlit glow, two figures pressed close and melded against a solid wooden door. Perry was still clutching tight to his partner's hair, quiet moans stolen between each increasingly more fervent kiss. Heinz had him pinned, surprisingly solid as he towered above him. Such a contrast. Though he would usually take the lead—in fights, in dances, in _life—_ he felt somehow more secure as his nemesis held him there. His arms encircled Heinz's narrow neck to pull him closer, and Perry marveled in the ease through which they fell in together. How absolutely _sure_ he was that his secrets would stay here, buried with the only man who would ever know all facets of him. How absurd and yet so _right_ it was that he was destined to feel safest in the hands of his eternal antagonist.

"Does it scare you? All… all this." Their foreheads pressed together again, chests heaving as Heinz pulled away for a moment. The question threw him. Perry blinked dazed russet eyes and bit his lip, shaking his head once. Did it scare him to leave his life in someone else's hands? Yes, yes it very much did. But this connection didn't scare him at all. The prospect of Heinz as a constant in his life was one he had expected and treasured for what felt like the entirety of his adult years. He would spend the rest of them attempting to convince Doofenshmirtz of it if he needed to, but he still appreciated that he could read him so clearly. "Do you want me to—"

 _"Heinz."_ He worked to stop the query in its tracks, nimble fingers reaching to tug him forward by the knot of his tie so that he could crush his lips against the other's. Doofenshmirtz had a habit of downplaying his triumphs rather than reveling in them, but he wouldn't allow him to do that. Not tonight. As a small rebuke, his teeth sank gently into a thinner lower lip, and he gloried for a moment in the soft sound it brought from Heinz's throat.

 _"Gott,"_ he groaned, stopping to nuzzle his face into Perry's hair. "You're a little minx, you know that? Is that what it's going to sound like _every_ time you want something from me?"

Perry let out a noncommittal chirring noise, hooking his thumbs into two opposite belt loops to align their hips together and pull him close once more. In the aftermath of revelations he was finally regaining some of his lost footing. That confidence came through in a slower tease, lips trailing along a narrow jaw and neckline until he could move no further past the collar. There again his teeth scraped against deliciously warm skin as he worried the flesh there, just so that he could listen to his lover whine.

 _"Oh,_ you—think you're _so smooth,_ don't you?" Perry nibbled smugly at Heinz's throat as he stuttered, running his tongue along the vein lined there as he listened to his nemesis' hitched inhalations. "Fine. If we're going to play that way, then let me conduct a little experiment… _Peregrin."_

He was unprepared for his reaction; the way desire swept low in his stomach at the sound of Heinz's voice, the way his accent transformed his name into a rhythmic burr and caused shivers to trail up his spine. Perry gasped—and Heinz struck like a snake, grabbing both of his wrists to pin them on either side of his head. Perry could only whimper as his partner trailed his mouth up the column of his throat in a series of barely-there kisses, ending with a sharp nip to his ear and a soft, triumphant chuckle.

"I'm going to have to remember that one, _schatz,"_ he whispered, his voice pitched low in an alluring tone he hadn't been aware Heinz was capable of. "I used to wonder how you always ended up in those really obvious traps. Now I think I know why. You _like_ it, don't you?"

" _Fuck,_ Heinz." Perry turned his head, willing himself to surface from the sudden onset of predatory thirst that Doofenshmirtz had just inspired. The kiss he stole turned desperate quickly, air between them hot as the taller man closed the scant distance between them.

"I think this counts as more than 'just a second'," Heinz panted, his breath properly taken.

 _"Don't care,"_ Perry growled, and bit down on his lip so that he moaned and he could take the opportunity to sweep his tongue expertly past his lips. Heinz's hands slid up past his wrists to twine their fingers together, and Perry arched his spine as he gripped the digits tight.

_"Dad?!"_

They jolted apart, eyes wide, and stared at each other before each of them turned to the source of their disturbance. Vanessa had frozen near the hallway leading to the bedrooms, her jaw slack and eyes wide.

 _"Perry?!"_ she squealed, moving to cover her eyes with both hands. "Your date was with _Perry?!_ Oh my god, I am _not_ seeing this. I am _not_ seeing my dad making out with Perry the Platypus…"

"Vanessa—what are you doing home? I thought you were going to be out." Heinz didn't seem capable of deciding whether he wanted to furrow his brow or duck his head in embarrassment. Perry swiftly retrieved his hat so that he could hide the deep flush on his face.

"I came back early! All they wanted to do after the movie was smoke!" she shrilled, her voice muffled by her hands. "Wow. _Wow,_ I'm uh—I'm just going to… _go._ Back to my room. To bleach my brain. You guys have fun."

"Vanessa—"

"Nope!" the teenager held up one index finger, stopping Heinz as he stepped forward. Slowly she crept backwards and past the threshold back to her bedroom, one hand still covering her eyes. "Can't hear you, bye!"

They both stared at the empty space, still catching their breath. Perry wondered if he ought to go after her, but Doofenshmirtz cleared his throat.

"…Well. That was… bad."

"Regrets, Doc?" Despite the redness still present in his cheeks, he cocked an eyebrow at his nemesis and grinned.

"Not a one." He started to shake his head, then reconsidered. "…Okay, two. One: I think I just scarred my daughter for life. Two: I _really_ liked where that was going."

"She'll get over it. Give her about fifty years." Perry clicked his tongue, leaning back as Doofenshmirtz enveloped him in a hug from behind. Inwardly, he was relieved. He'd been somewhat afraid of being unable to do so, but if he could continue speaking to Heinz like this, then it was unlikely he would end up relapsing and losing his voice around him again. "Anyway. Night's still young. We got time."

"Hmm." Heinz was already bending to nibble at his earlobe, causing shivers to run up his spine. "I really like your accent, you know. Too bad you don't talk nearly as much as I do."

"You're still one of the only people I'd ever talk _to,_ though, love." The endearment slipped past his lips without a thought, while he turned his neck to glance at him over his shoulder. One of his hands slid over to hold the one now resting at his waist, making himself comfortable in Heinz's hold. "Counts for somethin', eh?"

"Counts for everything," Doofenshmirtz corrected. "I almost thought you weren't going to."

"I almost _wasn't_ going to," he rejoined softly, unwilling to admit just how difficult it had been to offer up the secrets he'd been keeping for so long. "Ruins the _suave and mysterious_ vibe."

"Yeah, I was wondering about that. What changed your mind, anyway?"

Perry paused, lifting the hand he was holding to place a kiss against the back of Doofenshmirtz's palm. Heinz would understand if he wasn't ready to cover that yet, surely.

"You know nothing's going to change it. That… _enigma_ stuff." Perry offered a grateful smile as Heinz shook his head. "It doesn't matter anyway. Who am I going to tell? Don't worry about it. You're still short, dark, and handsome."

"Ass," Perry teased, turning partially to whisper the word against his lips.

"Insolent," Heinz rebuked, taking another lingering kiss for himself. "Come to bed."

Perry hummed, the hunger still rushing through his veins rearing its head tenfold. Before he could voice an agreement, however, his watch beeped. They groaned in unison.

 _"Verdammt,_ I'm going to kill him."

"Good evening, Agent P." Major Monogram's countenance flickered onto his watch face as he lifted it to eye level. The man's nightcap was askew, and his five o' clock shadow was becoming more apparent. He yawned widely, covering his mouth as Perry frowned. "And… Doofenshmirtz. What are you doing in Agent P's lair?"

"Perry the Platypus has a lair?"

"Of course he has a lair. He's a secret agent. Where do you think he keeps all his spy gear?"

Perry tilted his watch, wordlessly revealing his location.

"Oh, I see." Francis nodded sagely, as if he understood. "Sorry to ruin movie night."

Heinz snorted.

"Aaanyway, it's a good thing you're awake. There's a disturbance down by the docks we'd like you to look into. Looks like someone broke into one of the warehouses to… uh, well, as far as we can tell it's actually _empty_ , so we don't actually know what they're doing there, but everyone should be asleep at this hour so we just assumed it was bad."

Perry blinked at Major Monogram, biting his tongue against an incredulous expletive. Normally he'd only be mildly annoyed, but of all the times to interrupt him with something so asinine…

"All the other agents actually _are_ asleep, so just, you know, report back to us in the morning and _ahhh—_ " Monogram yawned again, and the agent's gaze lowered half-mast into his infamously unimpressed look. "'Scuse me. I meant to say, report back to us in the morning and let us know how it goes."

"You can't seriously expect him to go _now,_ can you? It's past midnight!" Doofenshmirtz, on the other hand, took full advantage of the fact that he wasn't currently employed with OWCA. The indignant tone he took caused Perry to bite his lip against a little smile. "I mean you just _said_ it was empty. Why not wait until tomorrow?"

"Evil never rests, Heinz. You should know that." Francis waved a finger at him as Heinz scowled over the operative's shoulder. "Alright, Agent P. I'm going back to sleep. Monogram, out."

Perry sighed, saluting sarcastically at the empty screen.

"That's one way to ruin the mood," Doofenshmirtz muttered. Huffing in agreement, Perry turned to stare up at his partner. Even before they'd gotten together, he absolutely hated to run out on Heinz last minute. It didn't sit well for him to cut time with one of his only friends, and he knew that Heinz resented it just as much. Perry reached to wrap his arms around his neck, giving himself these few moments just so that Heinz knew how much more of a priority he'd come to be. "You could just, you know, _not_ go."

His nemesis smiled softly. "You know me better than that, Doc."

"Yeeeah, I do…" Sighing, he pulled Perry close and felt him bury his face against his shoulder. "Doesn't mean I have to _like_ it. It's _really_ late, even for _evil-_ doing."

"Sorry about all this. God knows I wouldn't go if I didn't have'ta." Perry turned his head to speak, voice gentle. "Bonza date though. Too bad we never got to finish it."

"Hmm." Heinz kissed the top of his head. "Even so, best date I've had in a while."

"Yeah? Even the one with that rogue devil-woman?" One eye peeked out from beneath Perry's teal fringe, his expression impish. Doofenshmirtz snorted.

"Okay, so I've made a few _missteps…"_

"'Missteps?' Y'hung me over _crocodiles,_ Heinz. As a _date."_

"Evil," Heinz reminded him cheekily. "If it makes you feel better, none of them were nearly as attractive as you are."

"Flattery only gets you so far," Perry murmured, reaching up to toy with the little fringe he'd been eyeing all evening. "We should try again though, whadd'ya reckon? No interruptions next time."

"I was hoping you'd say that. But let me plan this one." He pressed his forehead against his nemesis' and let out a slow breath, attempting to still his rising emotions. "Be careful out there tonight. I have a feeling this is slightly worse than a ballgown-inator."

 _"Oi._ None'a that, now. It's me. I'll be fine." Perry rose, just enough to prod his nose gently against Heinz's. "And if I'm not, there'll always be another Agent P."

"Never another like you, _schatz._ Believe me, I would know." They shared twin smiles for a moment, all softness and nostalgia, and leaned in for a tender kiss. "I mean it. I want my nemesis back in one piece."

"Speakin'a which…" Perry's expression turned thoughtful, and he traced a finger lightly down the line of Heinz's back. "Are you gonna… you know?"

"Huh? No, I don't think so." Doofenshmirtz glanced down at himself. "I meant it when I said it felt a lot better like this. They can't blame me for being medically cautious, right?"

Then he blinked, and his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "…Why?"

He saw the wicked gleam in Perry's eye a moment too late. Before he could restrain him in his grasp, the agent slipped away and sped toward the device, already reaching for the one button he knew would always be present. Doofenshmirtz's jaw dropped for a moment before he regained his senses, chasing after Perry and grabbing a wrench from a nearby worktable.

"Oh no you don't!" The tool went flying, forcing Perry to duck away and try another angle for the self-destruct button. "I swear, you're such a little menace. What if I want to use it to get out of _jury duty_ or something? That's like a one-point-five on the _evil_ scale!"

"Checked the books lately, Heinz? Still evil enough." Perry laughed, ducking away from him just in time to avoid being tackled. _"Aha_ , got it. You beauty!"

"Perry the Platypus, don't you dare. I literally _just_ finished the repairs from that damn _timeline_ mess!"

He flipped forward twice, positioning himself right in front of the inator's self-destruct button and holding himself there. Just as Heinz reached him to intercept the perceived path to the button, Perry twisted and caught his partner's wrist instead. In an instant he twirled, precise movements leading him straight back into his nemesis' arms. His eyes twinkled with mirth as he grinned, body shaking with silent laughter.

"You absolute _arschloch,"_ Doofenshmirtz groaned, his head falling forward to rest on the operative's shoulder. "I really thought you were going to do it!"

"Nah, sweets. Wouldn't be that cruel to ya," he chuckled. "Just somethin' to remember me by."

"You couldn't just give me a _kiss_ or something? _Scheiße…"_

"Shh." Perry leaned forward to do just that, then held his lover's gaze for a moment before pulling away. "See you soon, Doc."

He was gone with a tip of his hat, leaving Doofenshmirtz to collapse against the inator and shake his head, grinning at the floor.

"Curse him."

* * *

The Danville Wharf was not the most well-protected place. He could recall several instances in which he'd had to pursue Heinz to these exact coordinates for some inane scheme, and if he remembered correctly, the dear doctor had even erected an entire city in his own honor (a story he'd learned from Vanessa, due to his unfortunate absence.) So, Perry wasn't exactly surprised to learn that someone had broken into one of the warehouses there. That didn't mean it failed to annoy him, however.

In retrospect, he supposed he should have anticipated the interruption. OWCA had a habit of calling him in at the most inconvenient times; including while out spending time with a much-beloved center point in his life. Perry settled for being begrudgingly satisfied that Monogram hadn't seen anything untoward. The agent shifted from his position. In the last several minutes, he hadn't noted any activity either in or around the warehouse. He'd have to get closer to investigate.

In utter silence he crept through the heavy metal doors, noting that they had been opened without very much disturbance at all—meaning someone had obtained the key. To their credit, however, it seemed that they had at least thought to take out the guards beforehand. Perry wondered briefly if they were alright, but resolved to check on them later. After all, there were more pressing matters to attend. Under the cover of night, he passed unnoticed as he began to duck and weave his way toward the center of the complex, where he could see a bright beam of light shining down from the halogen bulbs above.

"Perry?"

He paused, hidden by a nearby support beam. Thankfully, Major Monogram had only been partially correct; there were a number of boxes and crates contained within the facility, but OWCA scans most likely determined them empty. He cocked his head as he drew one of his favored non-lethal weapons, listening closely. Where had he heard that voice before?

"Perry, is that you?"

A woman's voice. Older. Deeper. A clear Australian accent.

_Aunt Addy?_

Gritting his teeth, he forced the sudden spike of anxiety away. Aunt Addy and Uncle Ethan were thousands of miles away and _safe, old boy. Remember that they're safe._

"Perry, where are you—"

A snap thundered through the warehouse, and Perry bit his lip as the woman yelped. He needed to be sure that he wasn't reckless enough to go barging in on what was clearly a trap set for him. But the pang of guilt drove his stomach down like a bar of lead as he listened to a distressed gasp escape the woman's lips. _You're letting her down. She's in danger._

_…Isn't she?_

"Perry! What have you done with him?" Perry closed his eyes. He hadn't heard Aunt Addy in such hysterics since… "Let me go. Answer me! _Where is he?!"_

Two or three steadying breaths later, the operative crept between several more boxes. He swore the pounding of his heart could be heard all 'round the facility, yet he pursued the sounds still, relying on the weak lighting to cast enough shadow to cover him. Even keeping a clear head and forcing himself to be as realistic as possible—he couldn't help but have a hard time controlling the trembling now present in his frame. If he let down another one of his family members because of his duty to the Agency, _especially her,_ Perry knew that he would never forgive himself.

It would be just like Crowe to exploit that, he thought with a scowl, and edged onward with trepidation.

Strangely, there didn't seem to be any guards surrounding the area. No henchmen lifting imperceptively light boxes out of the warehouse, no mercenaries guarding the entrances or whatever sound he was being drawn to. It made it easier for Perry to execute a roll, bringing himself level with his weapon into the open space, ready to defend himself and the woman he treasured like a mother…

And immediately recoil at what he saw.

No hostile reinforcements awaited him. Instead he had to force back a mouthful of bile and the arm holding his taser trembled violently enough that he almost dropped it. There laid his aunt, her mouth slack and her eyes glazed over. Each of the limbs had been cut away from her body to form some sort of strange symbol, the elbows and knees bent at unnatural angles to form a sort of hourglass around her torso. Without hesitation he rushed forward, irrationally hoping that he could somehow save his maternal figure from the horrors which had befallen her.

But then Aunt Addy disappeared, and a shot rang out from the depths of the shadows.

Perry buckled, a hand at his side where blood was already blossoming through the ash grey material of his suit.

"Well, that was easy," Crowe proclaimed, stepping out into the light and cocking his head down at the gasping operative. "Goodness me, Agent Fletcher. I honestly thought you'd put up at least a _bit_ of a fight. All the other ones did. Amazing what you can do with a bit of image manipulation and an audio file, eh?"

Perry shut his eyes against the pain, biting his lip to mitigate another noise as he trembled on the floor.

"Not to worry, Mrs. Fletcher is perfectly fine. Ah, hmm. I suppose I shouldn't _say quite_ that—she's sporting quite the bruise at the moment, but my contacts assure me that she's about as whole and hale as one her age can be expected to be. It wasn't so difficult to coerce her into giving me those lines, you see. Very much like you, she cares _far_ too much about her relatives. Especially those children. Your cousins, I believe?" Abraxas tsked, waving a hand through the air. "But this does tell me quite a bit about your character. So _detached,_ so _withdrawn._ You've certainly got your little friends at OWCA fooled. And yet you'd drop everything to protect your family, wouldn't you? I suppose sentiment doesn't do well for your line of work. Bring him."

He couldn't see the gesture that was made, but Perry let out a ragged rush of air while he was forced to get back to his feet and stumble toward the warehouse exit.

"It's funny," Abraxas was saying, following along behind them. "You've spent so long avoiding traps that I honestly thought I'd have to employ a few other surprises for you. Well, no matter. The sooner we get you out of the way, the faster my experiments can begin."

Perry groaned, struggling weakly against the hold and crying out as one of the henchmen punched him straight into the freshly made wound. He spared his last few conscious thoughts aching for the Flynn-Fletchers, and for the man he'd left alone in his apartment not an hour before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter underwent some maaajor changes before I was even remotely satisfied with it. Yikes.  
> Some of you may also have noticed the chapter count and the fact that this is now a series. My little plot bunny is growing way out of control.  
> As always, thank you everyone for following along with this, and I'm glad you're enjoying it so much!


	8. Deteriorating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deteriorate (v): to make or become worse or inferior in character; to disintegrate or wear away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not kidding this time, mind the rating.

Lawrence didn't typically think much of his cousin's disappearing acts.

It had been years since he'd given the disappearances more than any passing thought. After all, Perry usually had someplace he needed to be. When they'd met, it had been due to collegiate pursuits—he could remember many a day when Perry would mention a flight off to Edinburgh, or New York, and while he never quite understood the eclectic variety of studies he might look into, he'd never tried to be anything except supportive.

But as they'd grown older, he began to wonder. University became irrelevant once they'd reached a certain age, and he wasn't fool enough to believe that his cousin drank enough to go pubbing quite so often (and for so long, to boot.) Questions he raised about his whereabouts typically led to some very circular answers, and eventually he would let the subject drop in favor of simply keeping the peace between all of their family members. As long as it wasn't hurting anybody, he could hardly see a reason to be worried.

That was before he'd watched the news this morning.

"Local reports say that crime around the downtown area has increased at least seventy-eight percent in the past two weeks alone. Locals are encouraged to keep themselves safe when out and about, as the police have yet to catch the perpetrators of the crimes. In other news, a group of felons hailing from Danville South are being charged with major assault and battery due to being caught in the act harassing a young teenage couple late last night…"

"Blimey," Lawrence murmured, leaning toward his wife in a subconscious movement. He wasn't much of a fighter—at all, actually—but he had enough protective instinct in him to want to keep his family safe. Danville had never been a particularly violent community, and it worried him to think that it would start to be, just as he was beginning to settle into familial life proper. "I don't remember ever seeing the crime rate this bad, do you, dear?"

"No," she sighed. He watched the area between her eyes pinch and frowned a little deeper. In an ideal world, Linda would never wear that expression on her face. "But I'm not sure I'm comfortable with the kids playing outside if all this is going on. That's a shame—I know how much they love the backyard."

"You don't think they'd be safe with the fence closed in?" He glanced out the window, where the boys were tinkering with something relatively small in nature. Linda would likely never believe him if he mentioned just how out of hand their creations had gotten, but that was all well and good. So long as she wasn't stressed, he wouldn't be either.

"I've read of a couple of kidnappings in the paper the past few days," she rejected, red hair jostling as she shook her head. "We shouldn't take that chance."

"Perhaps you're right," he agreed, sighing himself. The thought of their neighborhood becoming an unsafe space was quite enough to dampen his spirits.

"And where _is_ Perry? He has a bad habit of disappearing, but with all this—"

"Now, dear, I'm sure Perry is more than capable of handling himself." Lawrence offered a placating smile, wrapping an arm around her. "Let's not worry about that just yet. No sense in making mountains out of molehills."

Linda pursed her lips, but eventually nodded and placed her head on his shoulder. Lawrence fervently hoped he was right.

* * *

"Carl! _Where_ is Agent P? He's incredibly late for his debriefing."

"We still don't know, sir. We've been looking for the past three days." Carl scratched at his head with a pencil, once again eying a clipboard with data Francis couldn’t even guess at. That was not, after all, his job. "Agent S did manage to find his car somewhere near the warehouses that you assigned him to on Saturday evening, but he was nowhere to be found. We've tried numerous times to ring him on his wrist communicator, but he's been unresponsive."

"Hmm." Monogram stroked his mustache, glancing up at the ceiling. "Maybe he's gone incognito."

Carl stared at him blankly. The whole point of being a secret agent certainly was to 'go incognito', but he thought it better than to mention that. Best not to get into an argument about semantics when their best operative was missing.

"Well, dispatch a team of agents. Let's go over the warehouses again. Maybe we missed a clue or something. Boy, I wish we had Agent P here to help. He could find clues like nobody else. Heh. But then, of course, if we did have Agent P, we wouldn't need him to find Agent P... "

Carl shook his head and left Major Monogram to his thoughts. At least they had a plan of action, even if it seemed futile in all respects. Agents had been combing the same warehouses for days.

* * *

_"Please utilize the biometric scanner to access these files."_

Harvey frowned, and bent to allow VERONICA to read his irises.

_"I apologize. No files were found on your search for 'Abraxas Crowe'."_

Frustrated, he growled and slammed a fist onto his desk. Ever since he'd been back from the hospital he had attempted to find any information possible on his erstwhile captor. Someone that unhinged (or, more terrifyingly, perfectly hinged and simply sadistic) had to have some kind of record on himself. Yet, like Perry before him, he hadn't discovered a single thing about the newest professor of Danville University.

"You're not still on that, are you?" Darryl the Duck peeked over the cubicle's partition to gawk at him, a bemused smile on his face. "He probably won't try and find you, Harv. No need to be so paranoid."

"Don't you think it's weird that we, the preeminent independent spy agency in the world, don't have a single record on file for this guy? We keep records for way less." Harvey pushed his fingers through his hair. "And don't you think it's weird that she says there are files, and somehow, there aren't?"

"It's just a glitch, buddy. V's been in need of an upgrade for a while. Relax. You're starting to sound like Perry."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"Don't." Darryl advised him, frowning.

"He's our best agent."

"He also has a habit of fraternizing with the enemy. That's not the greatest track record."

"It seems to have worked out for him," Harvey commented, turning back to his computer with furrowed brows. "They're dating, aren't they?"

"Doof and Pretty Boy? No way. He might have a stick up his ass, but I don't think it's that one. Besides, I don't think even he would stoop that low."

"Yes he would," Agent F chimed in laughingly. "They've been mooning over each other for years. If it's not already happening, I'll eat my hat."

"Are you kidding? He can't, anyway. That's against the rules, isn't it?"

"Doof is 'good now'," emphasized another agent, flexing her fingers into air quotes. "Technically, that's clear grounds. _Technically._ I never personally bought the good guy routine, though."

"If Agent P says he's good, then that's good enough for me." Harvey's tone was firm as he looked around at the crowd of interested onlookers. It seemed as though the subject of Perry and Dr. Doofenshmirtz was a popular subject for gossip. "Anyway, isn't there a betting pool on this? How many people actually care if Perry and Doofenshmirtz get it on?"

"…Everybody," everybody echoed, after glancing at each other. Agent H shook his head.

"The pool encompasses OWCA sites worldwide," Darryl explained. "It's so big we had to open an actual account for it."

_"Worldwide?"_

"Gotta have fun somehow." That was agent E, spreading her arms in a helpless gesture. "Anyway, I think it's kind of cute."

_"Cute?"_

That sparked an entirely new argument altogether. Harvey's mouth dropped slightly as he watched the office fairly devolve into chaos, all because he'd just happened to bring up Perry's name. Evidently there were some drawbacks to the relative fame he had accrued in his tenure at OWCA. Sighing, he turned back to the unimpressive search results, and slumped his chin into his open palms.

"You don't think I could maybe hack the system a bit?" He whispered the aside to Darryl, who snorted at him.

"Only Perry has that kind of access. Good luck unencrypting all that."

"A man can try, right?" Harvey's eyebrows rose. "Maybe it really is as simple as a password."

"Sure. Try 'ILoveDoofenshmirtz'," the other man supplied sardonically.

Agent H paused. "Okay, but… how _do_ you spell 'Doofenshmirtz'?"

* * *

_"Candace!_ Oh, sweetheart. Are you alright?"

Linda clutched her daughter close, her breath hitching as she felt arms wrap around her shoulders.

"I'm fine, mom." Linda didn't believe her. Her voice was shaking. "It wasn't that bad. We made it out okay."

Lawrence fairly scooped both of the women into his arms, letting out a shaking breath. He hadn't given it a second thought when his daughter had announced that she was going to the movies, since it was a Friday night. A double date with Jeremy and Stacy, evidently. And he'd always liked Jeremy. Such a nice lad.

And he owed him now, for potentially saving her life.

Or, from the way Jeremy was talking, perhaps it was the other way around. All four of the teens were understandably quite jumpy, and couldn't quite seem to get themselves under order enough to offer a full account. In and around the area, sirens flashed as police cars sped down the street. Understandable. He could see the hellish red flames even from there.

"I-I just can't believe someone would do this," he murmured, pressing a kiss to Candace's head. "How exactly one smuggles a handgun into a movie theater, I've no idea. Suppose it's quite easy, isn't it? But setting it on fire? Just who does that benefit? Is everyone else okay, d'you reckon?"

"I saw a few people being treated by an ambulance a couple blocks back," Jeremy mumbled. His hand was still on Candace's shoulder, and once her parents released her, she was immediately tugged back into his embrace. "It doesn't look like anyone…"

Uneasy looks appeared on every present face.

"Candace!" Phineas and Ferb, both wide-eyed, sped down the stairs and each claimed a leg. The redhead smiled slightly to herself and reached to ruffle Ferb's mop of green hair. "We just saw what happened. I'm glad you're okay."

"Of course I'm okay," she teased, her voice full of false bravado. "Someone's gotta keep you two in check."

"Didn't happen to see Perry out there, did you darling?" Her father tilted his head; she could see the anxiety behind his spectacles. Lawrence was often the calmest presence within their chaotic household—save from Perry, who was now, inexplicably, _gone._ Without him, things seemed to fall apart just a little more each day.

Candace shook her head, biting her lip to avoid his eyes. Uncle Perry had been missing for several days. He never disappeared for this long, and the entire family was beginning to wonder if something had gone seriously wrong. In Danville's current state, such a grim reality seemed far too likely. "No. No, I didn't. Maybe we should report it to the police, Dad."

"Yes indeed," Lawrence agreed, his expression distant. The family turned to watch the climbing flames, each of them contemplating what could have possibly happened to their missing family member.

* * *

For the nth time Doofenshmirtz checked his phone, anxiety twisting his stomach as he stared into the glowing screen. When he'd initially began dating again, he recalled Perry rolling his eyes and attempting to pull him away from his phone in order to stop him from leaving too many voice mails and text messages when he started getting desperate.

Yet, it had been days since he'd heard from his nemesis—an abnormal occurrence even considering his partner's line of work. Perry always kept in contact, and when he couldn't, he always followed up with some sort of explanation as to why. It was common courtesy between them and had been so for years.

Alright, so he'd left more than a few over the past week. Certainly he was entitled, given that the last time he'd seen Perry was the night he'd run off to go tend to that ridiculous request delivered by Monogram. He hadn't been so distraught on Sunday, but when different agents whom he didn't know started showing up in class to disrupt his latest creations and save the children, Doofenshmirtz couldn't help but feel a little on edge. Even the students had begun to wonder where Perry had gone.

 _Perry,_ he fretted, biting his lip. _Where are you?_

As occupied as he was with his thoughts, it was no surprise that he jumped a mile when a loud knock echoed in the empty apartment. His heart pounded like a drumbeat in his chest as he put a hand to it, as if doing so would still the tattoo it was etching against his rib cage. Doofenshmirtz took a few moments to calm his breathing before he stomped to the door, fully prepared to give Perry the Platypus a proper tongue-lashing for worrying him unnecessarily.

"You better have a _good explanation_ for this," Heinz growled, savagely yanking on the doorknob just to up the drama a little. It was absolutely imperative that Perry understand just how worried he'd been at his absence. "I really don't appreciate being left to _hang_ like that, you know. Do you know how many messages I've left over… the… week? Oh. You're, uh, not who I was _expecting."_

Instead of Perry, a middle-aged man stood at his door. Instantly Doofenshmirtz's eyes rose to see if he would be able to recognize him with that infernal hat all the OWCA agents were required to wear, but although he did have brown hair, no fedora covered it. The man wrung his hands anxiously, his brow furrowed behind a pair of half-moon spectacles. Heinz waited expectantly. The two of them merely stared at each other, unwilling to break the silence.

"Dooo you need something, buddy?" Doofenshmirtz finally quirked a brow at him.

"Oh, I—yes, er, pardon me," he stuttered. Heinz immediately identified his accent as British. "I'm looking for a man named Heinz; have you seen him? It's rather urgent."

"…You're _lookin'_ at him." His eyes thinned, confusion written across his narrow face. "How'd you get up here, anyway?"

"A lovely little woman downstairs," said the stranger, momentarily brightening. He pointed downward, as if Doofenshmirtz could see the ground floor through the carpeting. "Charming, really. She did say he might not be in, but, well. Here we are. Ahaha."

"…Right." Impatiently he began to roll the doorknob between spindly fingers. Why did Mrs. Thompson insist on letting every random person into the building except for him? "So what makes you think I'm the right _Heinz?_ I mean the Tri-State Area is pretty _big,_ man, there must be a hundred in Danville alone—"

"Oh! Actually, you're the only one in the ODD."

Heinz sighed. Damn acronyms.

"The what?"

"The Online Danville Directory, of course."

"I am?" His eyebrows shot up at that, surprised enough to at least partially wipe the annoyance off his face. "That's… kind of _weird._ Although it's even weirder that you managed to _find_ me. Are you stalking me or something?"

"What? No!" The stranger had the grace to look abashed. "It isn't that. It's… you're the last person I know he's been in contact with. I haven't seen him for days. The whole family's been worried. It isn't like him to up and off without a word. Not like him at all."

"Wait a second, hold-hold on. Slow down. Who are we _talking_ about? It's not like I keep track of every _Joe Nobody_ I meet on the street—"

"My cousin," the Englishman interrupted, eyes pleading behind his spectacles. "Perry? Perry Fletcher? He said he was going to be out with a man named Heinz on Saturday and we haven't seen him since. I thought he might be here with you."

Doofenshmirtz froze at that, indigo eyes wide as his memory immediately supplied each detail of that exquisite evening. He didn't need to rifle through them to remember one of the most important moments of his life.

"Okay, seriously. Who are you?" Heinz demanded, suddenly alert. He loomed over his uninvited guest, a familiar protective nature bearing forth as he stared him down.

"I told you," the smaller implored. "I'm his cousin, _Lawrence_ Fletcher. The last thing he said to me was that he was going on a date with you. I haven't seen him since Saturday evening. Please, haven't you any word of him?"

Doofenshmirtz frowned, and chewed at the corner of his lip in deliberation. He didn't like the way this guy had randomly shown up at his door. It could just as easily be a trap, and seemed like just the sort of thing a devoted enough villain would do. And besides, Perry had never mentioned anything about a family beyond the members he'd left in Australia. But then again—the both of them were desperate for information, and if he could wring any sort of news from him then perhaps he could finally start with a search of his own. He sighed, and stepped aside to allow Lawrence past his threshold.

"Come in."

* * *

He woke to his side searing in pain, although the wound seemed to have been hastily patched and bandaged. He didn't dare turn in any way to catch a better look at it, however, given that even the slightest moment caused half his body to flare hotly in protest.

Through arduous efforts Perry opened his eyes, staring upward at the ceiling and attempting not to move. Yet the instincts of a trained spy warred within him. He gave himself a cursory glance and found himself nude save for his boxers, and that his wrists and ankles were all bound to a metal chair. His spine was distended at an agonizing angle with the back of the chair extended so far down, which left him effectively immobile. The room, from what he could see looked nothing like a typical torture chamber. Glazed russet eyes took in the high-backed chairs and an unlit fireplace, the last rays of the sun streaming in through one of the open windows and gleaming off of a dozen crystal figurines. But there was a pervasive scent of blood permeating the air surrounding; and something else that he couldn't yet put a name to.

He tried to turn his head, and immediately regretted it.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Crowe intoned, from somewhere Perry couldn't see. "You've been tied up like that for some time. Don't you remember?"

Remember? Perry wondered foggily. Of course he didn't remember. Surely he'd remember being shot, captured, and tied here. But calling attention to his less-than-ideal position brought back all the pain associated with it—the way his spine was now unnaturally bent almost to the point of snapping; how it seemed, centimeter by centimeter, that his gunshot wound was being torn open in as excruciating a way as possible; how his arms and legs ached with fatigue, giving him at least a rough estimate for how long he'd been held here. Days, indeed. At least three. Four if he correctly pinpointed the cause of the numbness forming near his feet. Whatever blood he had left was simply beginning to pool there.

Laboriously, the operative blinked tired eyes and gave his wrist a small shake. He grunted in displeasure; the familiar weight of his watch was no longer there.

"I had to remove it," Abraxas revealed, as if reading his thoughts. "The bloody thing kept beeping. It's over there, in the fireplace. You're welcome to it if you like, but I'm afraid there isn't much of it left."

Perry chirred, and immediately regretted that too.

"Listen to me very carefully, Agent Fletcher," Crowe moved to stand in front of him, staring down with an expression akin to stone. Perry held his breath, and tried to erase the pain from his features. "I am not your Doctor Doofenshmirtz. I have no interest in 'taking over' the Tri-State Area. Nevertheless, I am a scientist, and without your presence patrolling its streets, Danville is now my petri dish. Stores are being robbed. Buildings are on fire. People are being murdered. Without you, this city is quite literally going to go down in flames."

He had to ponder that, if but for a moment. OWCA was a worldwide organization full of top-tier secret agents… and yet, it was true. For anything on the edge of truly dangerous, he was often called away to deal with it. Every other agent therefore took less precedence… and in result, had less practice in a different line of fire. A glaring mistake on OWCA's part. He supposed that was what happened when the agency became too complacent.

Abraxas sighed, as if annoyed. "If this is OWCA's best-of-the-best, then I am sorely disappointed. You were supposed to be their crowning jewel. Well, no matter. The result remains the same: we now know what happens to the world when the Agents P are removed from the picture, which is exactly what we wanted."

_Agents?_

Perry bit his lip, doing his best to string together his available coherent thoughts.

_I honestly thought you'd put up at least a bit of a fight. All the other ones did._

Just how many agents had the bastard collected?

"Not that they haven't all been charming house guests," Crowe leered, grinning as Perry scowled at him. "But I have something special planned for you, my friend. A little gift to your Agency, if you will. I'm sure they'll have fun unwrapping it. It's almost ready, so just relax and lie back for a while."

Abraxas' smile widened before he swept away, a dark chuckle following him out before a door slam echoed up to the high ceiling. Perry watched him go with his eyes, but stopped just before he would be forced to crane his neck. Best not to accidentally break his spine, after all.

* * *

"Are you _sure_ you two are related? Hey!"

For the past few hours he had been trying to get in contact with Major Monogram—which had resulted in a large amount of _nothing,_ seeing as nobody at OWCA deemed it fit to actually answer the phone like a courteous human being. In those hours, he had learned quite a bit about Mr. Lawrence Fletcher. For example: he preferred his tea on the cooler side of hot, he was unfailingly polite, and he was only slightly more clueless than him. It made for a rather entertaining (if exasperating) afternoon, and if he wasn't so busy worrying after Perry, he might have exploited it a little more.

That did, however, make it that much harder to believe that _suave, unstoppable, dynamic_ Perry the Platypus was in any way related to this schmuck; no matter how likable he happened to be.

As it was, however, he had to keep him from touching anything and everything previously -inator related. No sooner had the question left his mouth, he'd had to run over and smack Lawrence's hand away from the de-slouch-inator's self-destruct button.

"Never mind," Heinz groused, rolling his eyes as his erstwhile guest rubbed the back of his hand. "You're _definitely_ related. Don't touch that, okay? You-You're gonna _hurt_ yourself."

"Oh, quite the contrary. My boys build things like this all the time, you see." Lawrence smiled fondly at the de-slouch-inator, as if it was one such device. Doofenshmirtz shook his head. What did he think it was going to do, spit out ice cream? "What does it do?"

"It's-It's a de- _slouch_ -inator. It de- _slouches_ you. Obviously." Doofenshmirtz's hand waved skyward as he pressed the phone a little harder against his ear.

_"Thank you for calling the Organization Without a Cool Acronym. Please listen to the following options, as our menu may have changed. For Division A, press one. For Division B, press two. For Division C…"_

"Oh, for badness' sake!" Doofenshmirtz seethed, jabbing the '0' on his phone maliciously.

_"Sorry, that's not one of our options. For Division A, press one. For Division B…"_

"Ugh, _curse_ this accursed _fucking_ phone system!"

"Oh, dear. Would you like me to try next?"

* * *

_Zzzt!_

"How's your wound?"

Russet eyes fluttered. He recognized that voice.

"Hey." The sound of fingers snapping. "Pretty Boy. Focus. How's your gunshot wound?"

_Peter._

Perry licked his lips and let out a shuddering breath. Now that Crowe had vanished, he could more clearly recognize the sounds of various breathing patterns in the room. Some of them were quick and sharp, some slow and labored. There were at least four of them in there. Just what sort of state they were in, however, he couldn't see.

Peter didn't seem to be that bad off, though, if he could still run his mouth.

_Zzzt!_

"Come on, open your eyes. It's just one trap. What would Doctor D think?"

Perry grunted. Peter definitely wasn't that bad off.

 _Who else?_ He managed to sign. His fingers twitched involuntarily as he did so, every muscle in his body straining to comply with even these simple movements.

"Pinky the Chihuahua," Peter listed dutifully. "Peacock, Panther, Parrot… almost every operative codenamed 'Agent P'. He was rather thorough."

He paused. Perry knew where that was going.

"…Pretty sure he killed Pascual earlier."

His brow crumpled. He'd been right. And that electrical zapping noise was getting immensely annoying.

 _"Dio santo,_ he is awake. I thought for sure this time…"

 _This time?_ Perry wondered, slowly shaking his head so as not to aggravate his condition. The more worrisome detail for him was that Prospero was part of the European division, and shouldn't have been here in the first place. He wanted to move, to take stock of the other operatives, but even breathing was becoming a chore with his body literally stretched to its limits. He stared up at the ceiling and grit his teeth, thinking hard.

_…Zzzzzzt!_

Under his breath, Perry bit back a frustrated snarl.

"Whatever you're playing at, it isn’t going to work." Perry huffed, disbelieving. Surely with this many OWCA agents in one room... "We're stripped bare. Pavel's got two broken arms. At least he still has both his arms. Don't suppose you remember watching that yesterday. Do you?"

No. No he definitely didn't.

"Pierre's ribs are broken. Pinky hasn't woken up for twelve hours. And you’re… well. None of us are fit to move anytime soon."

 _You?_ He signed slowly, tilting his head the barest millimeter toward Peter's voice.

"Leg," Peter supplied conversationally. How he could possibly sound so calm while one of his legs was broken was beyond Perry. Maybe he was relying on some ancient Chinese healing method. But then again, it was entirely possible he was just imagining it through his own haze. "Burnt, not broken. But I only got here a day or so ago. We'll see how long the other one lasts. Anyway, the blisters are hell."

Perry swallowed, wondering what they had gotten themselves into.

"I don't remember anyone ever covering what to do if you're tortured by a homicidal maniac at the Academy," Peter hummed. Perry thought he could hear water sloshing as he shifted, like a too-full aquarium spilling over its edge.

Instead of nodding, he blinked. His training hadn't been the most orthodox. 'Homicidal maniacs' didn't even cover a quarter. They didn't really do that sort of thing at the Academy anymore though, for good reason.

"Ah, but I’ve forgotten. You were always a special case. OWCA's golden boy. Still feeling exceptional, are we?"

Despite the pain, Perry managed to growl at him.

"Don't get your tail in a twist," Peter retorted, his clipped Chinese accent suddenly more abrasive. "Listen: all this crap, the reason we're here, is because they were looking for _you._ They wanted the best, and they got him. So you better hold your shit together, Pretty Boy, because if you die, we probably won't be far behind you."

Scowling, the agent stared up to the ceiling, and tried his best to ignore the electrical buzz still ringing in his ears.

* * *

When next Perry opened his eyes, he did so screaming.

Or rather, he would have done. Instead his mouth fell open and he choked on frigid salt water, coughing up the liquid as he attempted to double over in pain. His arms wrapped around his abdomen, dripping salt over the open hole at his side, and ragged breaths transformed into a soft whimper as it all sluiced into over-exposed flesh. Bending over in any degree brought agony hot enough for tears to prick at his eyes, so he merely laid there and trembled for a long, torturous moment.

Above him, the halogen lamps seared his eyes, stinging so harshly he had to momentarily shut them as he was dragged from the pool of water tinged with his blood. The electrical buzzing sound—it had never left him, it was never going to _leave him alone_ —rose to a crescendo as he watched a pair of turtledoves dance just past his line of vision. Violent tremors racked his frame, nausea causing him to grow dizzy the further he was taken. How had he gotten here? When had he even fallen asleep? Hadn’t he just been talking to Peter?

He lurched. _Peter._ Peter and the rest were still trapped in that room, suffering, and all of it made worse because he knew that Peter was right. They _were_ here because of him, in whatever capacity that meant, and in turn, that meant that he already had one man’s blood on his hands. Perry twisted, hoping to throw the guards off kilter even as his creaking spine and infected wounds flared in protest. For his trouble, they twisted his arms so harshly he cried out again, and then he flinched. Everything was too loud, too bright, too painful.

And the turtledoves were pecking a rat’s eyes out in the corner.

He gagged again, grateful that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten.

Beaten, weary, emaciated—Perry could do nothing but collapse while the two guards threw him across the floor into a dimly lit room. He bit down on his tongue, fearing he would draw blood but still unwilling to voice anymore pain. Through it all his uneven breathing filled the space, blurred vision catching sight of dusted-over crystalline figures, a wretchedly filthy floor and matted carpeting. The stench of decay filled his nostrils and his stomach churned in protest, leaving the debilitated operative to shudder as the taste of death began to settle on his tongue. A guard pressed his boot down against his contorted spine, holding him in place by the pain alone.

“…Per—”

The crack of a hand against flesh caused Perry to whimper again, drowned by someone else’s hoarse cry. The echo rang like a gong and rattled his teeth; he may as well have been on the receiving end of the slap.

“Open your eyes.”

He shook his head, and tasted his own blood as he let out a strangled moan. The foot on his back drove its heel down harder.

“I _said_ open your eyes.”

“Don’t look Perry, fuck’s sake.”

Someone tugged harshly at his hair and bent his head back hard. Perry bit back a yelp and complied, only to let out a wounded noise anyway.

_Pavel's got two broken arms._

He glanced to the side, unwilling to take in the slaughter. That was a mistake.

_At least he still has both his arms._

Another corpse, both of them topped with abhorrently familiar brown fedoras. He squeezed his eyes shut against the threat of more nausea. Blessedly, the pressure on his back eased, and he let himself crumple to the floor in an effort to prevent his back from literally breaking in half. Stretched thin and defeated, Perry pressed his face against the carpet, seeking any sort of warmth against the chill soaked into his bones.

"Hey… Pretty Boy." As the thunder of footsteps faded, Perry blinked dazed eyes up at a figure chained near the wall. He couldn't recognize the reddened lump of mottled flesh—but he knew that voice.

And he knew that smell.

"Not so… pretty anymore, huh? Shit, me… me too," Peter laughed brokenly, clearly having watched him. "Hope the… medical division has enough skin grafts."

Perry listened to their breathing. His, quick and sharp. Peter's, deep and hollow. The air sounded like wind whistling through cracks of him—like pieces of the other agent were eroding the longer they stayed trapped here.

How long had they been trapped here?

"Listen… to me," croaked Peter. Perry watched a frog hop across his vision on the floor and wondered if the birds would eat that too. "This is… what they _want._ To break you. Six days. You were brought back t-twice. You remember?"

Too exhausted to lift his head from the floor, Perry hefted his arm. Like a snake's head, he wiggled his hand back and forth twice.

“Well you… better _start,_ asshole,” Peter sighed. He sounded like he was losing hope. Losing hope for what, Perry had no idea. He just listened to him ramble, wavering on the brink of unconsciousness. Who else did he know that rambled? “You were brought… they… f-flagellated Paulo. Until he passed out. They killed Pavel, they… You told me… y-you still… still seeing things, Perry? Yeah? The birds?”

Birds. Yes. Perry nodded his hand.

“Fuck.” That sounded more like Peter. A little bit more feeling and they might have been dueling over who got the desk jockey work. “You know my name? Prove it. Spell it.”

_P-E-T… —E-R._

Perry’s arm quivered, then fell, bereft of strength.

Peter swore again. Perry could actually hear flayed, dry flesh scraping against metal as he moved within his constraints, accompanied by the squelch of coagulated blood. Presumably, he was accommodating one of his more serious burns. Behind his eyelids, Perry dragged himself through a river of blood and gore using an OWCA agent’s arm as a paddle. He forced himself to open his eyes and ignore it.

“Good. Don’t… don’t fall asleep. Spell something else. Spell ‘Platypus’.”

 _P-L-A-T- …Y…_ Perry, who had been tracing the letters into the rug, paused for several moments and let his hand drop. Peter huffed a breath.

“Jesus, Perry.” His voice grew slack. They were both exhausted, and he didn’t know which one of them would fall apart first. “It’s not… your fault. Yeah? Remember that. They were agents. That’s what we do. Hey. Hey.”

If they ever got out of here, he needed to teach Peter how irritating it was to have to listen to snapping fingers, never mind how often he used that same tactic on everyone else. Perry groaned. The finger-snapping turned into neck-snapping and made him want to burst his own eardrums.

“Perry. Hey. Stay… stay with me. Spell ‘Doofenshmirtz.’ Heinz Doofenshmirtz. The whole thing.”

That was easy. Like breathing air.

(Well, alright. Perhaps a little easier, just now.)

_H-E-I-N-Z, D-O-O-F—_

“Time for another bath, I think!” Abraxas swept in like a bat out of hell, the huge oak doors leading into the room banging noisily against the adjacent walls. Perry swore his ears started bleeding. Or was that the water, still slithering down from his hair despite how long he’d spent in here? How long had he spent in here? For his abused ears, he couldn’t help the whine of protest—less so the yelp that accompanied a distinct crack near the base of his spine. “What say you, Mr. Fletcher?”

“Perry? Spell it,” Peter whispered urgently. “Spell it and _keep_ spelling it. Understand? Don't sto—”

“That's quite enough out of you,” Crowe sighed, looking for all the world like he was lecturing a particularly slow student. “Keep it up. I have no qualms about cutting your tongue out. Come on then, haven't got all evening."

* * *

“Do you know, Agent Fletcher—I’ve always loved space.”

Perry wished he had enough fluids left to spit at Crowe’s feet. As it was, however, whatever strength he had left was being used not to cry out as he was dragged away from Peter and back the way he came. His knees bumped and scraped against rough stone and tile, yet if he stood straight—if it could be called straight—he would bow for the severity of the pain it caused him. So he was forced onward this way, unable to escape whatever fate lay in store for him.

“It’s quite fascinating, actually. Some astronomers believe that you can actually read the lifespan of the universe just by looking far enough into space. Imagine that.” Exhausted, Perry blinked and regarded the metallic, egg-shaped chamber he was made to kneel in front of. It comforted him to hear a monologue—any monologue; anything that reminded him that at some point he had been strong enough to overcome all of this.

“Alas, we do not yet have the capability to explore so far,” Crowe continued. Perry shrank away as one of his associates opened the capsule. He could feel the yawning emptiness of it, as if Crowe had somehow captured some small, sentient pocket of space just so he could let it swallow his victims whole. “But, for the time being, I believe this will suit our purposes. Did you enjoy space, Mr. Fletcher? Yes, I’ve read about your little misadventures. It must have been quite thrilling for you. That freedom; the silence. The endless vacuum. It’s truly a gift, don’t you think? Wouldn't you like to experience it again?”

He didn’t know why it mattered; mostly, he was focused on tuning out the hellish buzzing noise he could hear emanating from the shadows, as if a swarm of wasps awaited, ready to tear into his mutilated flesh. A shiver crawled up his distorted spine, before he was unceremoniously pitched forward. This time, he kept his mouth shut and bit down on his lip until he could feel the salt draining his blood away.

“Take this time to contemplate the choices you’ve made, Agent Fletcher.” Abraxas smiled down at him with a manic gleam in his eyes. While Perry did his best not to writhe, tears formed in his eyes as the water once again began to lap at his exposed wound. Sheer will allowed him to blink them away. The frigid temperature seemed to freeze him in place, leaving him nearly paralyzed lest he aggravate his spine any further. “Each step you’ve taken, Each secret you’ve kept. _You_ doomed those men. _You_ spilled their blood. And soon the rest of your organization will follow. You can do nothing. You _are_ nothing. Remember that. We’ll see you in a few days.”

Perry bit his lip harder—his one strength and his punishment in one simple gesture—and watched the last of the light drain away as Crowe lowered the lid to leave him shivering in the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to let you all know that the reviews on the last chapter were literally gold.  
> Bless.  
> This story really seems to be picking up steam! As always, I'm glad ya'll are enjoying it. Look forward to the next chapter. :)


	9. Delving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delve (v): to carry on intensive and thorough research for information; investigate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very Heinz-centric chapter.

_H-E-I-N-Z_

He stared into the darkness and held himself still, save for the barest flex of his fingers. Which way was up? Which way was down? It didn’t matter. Any way he moved, the pain would follow.

_D-O-O-F-E-N-S-H-M-I-R-T-Z_

Turtledoves were resting atop him in droves, pecking at his skin. He itched—but when he attempted to scratch, he dropped water all over the birds and they pierced his flesh with drills for beaks. He was swimming in a pool of his own blood. The turtledoves birthed vultures. They dug for his entrails. His fingers kept moving.

_H-E-I-N-Z_

What was an inator? Did inators cause pain? Perry listened to his pulse; felt the way his heart pounded against his battered chest, loud as thunder. No, he thought. Inators didn’t cause pain. But they were important. Why were they important? He tore himself back through his memories, almost physically having to pick each and every one of them apart. He didn’t want to forget. He _couldn’t_ forget. That was important too. _Inator._ The word brought with it a sense of fondness, of excitement and nostalgia and a profound, deep affection. _Inator_ was synonymous with _home,_ and _home_ was synonymous with the wonderment of otherworldly imagination.

He mourned the loss of his boys, and wished he could remember the exact shade of Candace’s hair.

_D-O-O-F-E-N-S-H…?_

Where was home? Who was home? Perry was alone—had always been alone. That was the price for keeping so many secrets. Even when he had been surrounded by others, even in the presence of those he considered family, he—

_H-E-I-N-Z_

When he was young, he used to pray for silence. Any silence. A moment would have done.

In the darkness, he screamed—the void swallowed his voice. He would give anything, _anything,_ if only…

_D…_

What was his name? What did he look like? What was his life like?

Did he have a wife? A child? He had two sons, didn’t he? One with blond hair, one with brown. Or was it two redheads? Green hair? No. Absurd. He couldn’t remember what the color green looked like, anyway. A wife named Candace. A son named Lawrence. Was that right? It didn’t feel right. In the gloom, Perry thought he spied the flash of a striped shirt; heard the laugh of a young boy. The shriek of something mechanical abraded his eardrums.

Were they dead? Was he?

Each piece of him fell away like shattered glass, leaving only the barest shell of a man clinging to the most precious of his last few memories. He opened his mouth and challenged the darkness with the only piece he had left.

_H-E-I—_

“H-E-I-N-Z,” he whispered, to the rapid rhythmic pecking of his winged tormentors. Heinz. Was that Swedish? No, _German._ A diminutive of _Heinrich,_ meaning ‘home ruler’. Ruler of where? A home? Which home? Whose home? _His_ home? No, not possible, because he—

_“Curse you, Perry the Platypus!”_

Slow, torturous movement. He shifted to press his hand from shoulder to crosswise hip like a sash worn by kings, index and middle fingers rigid.

 _“What is that? That… that thing you’re doing. There, yeah. That. Me? Oh._ Oh, _I get it! That’s my_ name sign, _isn’t it? You’re giving me a name sign? Wow, Perry the Platypus, I didn’t know you cared so—”_

A joke. A double entendre. Heinz, the home ruler; the king who would never be. He had shared that joke with him once. They had laughed about it over tea and coffee. Heinz’s eyes had looked bluer than usual that day.

The turtledoves stopped pecking at him and cooed instead. They turned into pigeons. Perry remembered a song, and fled from the shadows to preserve himself in the safety of drawn out monologues.

* * *

_“Verdammt,_ Francis, if you don’t tell me where he is—”

“We don’t know where he is,” Monogram stressed, rolling his eyes for the umpteenth time. “Believe me, if we knew, we’d—well, maybe we wouldn’t tell _you,_ but we’d send a couple of agents to go get him. But our tracking system is down; we haven’t been able to use it for weeks, and there’s not enough in the budget to fix it. It’s a lot harder to track a man down the old fashioned way, y’know.”

Doofenshmirtz grit his teeth, doing his best not to growl into the line. It had taken him several days to get in contact with Monogram. Lawrence, meanwhile, had gone home only after having extracted a promise that Heinz would call him the moment he had any news and vice versa. The more people they had looking out for Perry, Doofenshmirtz figured, the better. But of course OWCA had to make things difficult and be as uncooperative as possible. If having been hired by them had taught him anything, it was that the bureaucracy of the place tended to swallow up any important details. Fortunately, Perry the Platypus was often savvy enough to extract those details with finesse.

Unfortunately, _he_ was no Perry the Platypus, and had no idea where to even _start._

“Did you check the—”

“Warehouses? Yes, _dummkopf,_ yes I did. I told you it was a bad idea to send him out there in the middle of the night. But did you listen? Nooo, of course not. Couldn’t even find his car.”

“We took his car,” Monogram supplied. “He loves that thing. Besides, it’s got proprietary OWCA technology in it. We wanted to keep it safe.”

“Great,” Heinz grumbled, folding his arms and biting down on his tongue to keep from letting out another stream of expletives. With OWCA on the case, there wouldn’t exactly be anything for him to trace. “So what exactly _did_ you find there?”

“Nothing.” That was Carl, standing behind Francis’ shoulder as always. “Well, almost nothing. We did find, uh, some blood in one of the warehouses…”

Doofenshmirtz froze. “Was it his?”

“Heinz, there’s no reason to suspect that Agent P—”

He bit the words out, seething. _“Was it his?”_

“…Yes,” they mumbled together.

 _“ Du hurensohn,” _Heinz whispered, tone promising mortal peril. “I can’t believe you _kept_ this from me, you and your _verdammt_ organization! Do you know how worried I’ve been, waiting on news _all week,_ and now you’re telling me my nemesis is somewhere out there, injured and bleeding from something probably _worse_ than my inators, and you have _no leads whatsoever?”_

“Look, Dr. Doofenshmirtz,” Carl placated. “We’ve got every available agent on the case—”

 _“Küss meinen arsch,_ Coconut. He’s your best agent and we all know it. Without him, you’re chickens with your heads cut off. I _knew_ I shouldn’t have trusted you with searching on your own. _Mein gott,_ you’ve already wasted two weeks’ worth of time. He could be _dead_ by now. That’s it, I’m calling Lawrence—”

“Lawrence? Lawrence Fletcher?” Carl’s tone was cautious, and Heinz could tell he was biting his lip.

 _“Of course_ Lawrence Fletcher. Come on, there can’t be too many guys named _Lawrence_ around here, I mean, it-it’s such a _dorky_ name—”

“How did you even—” Monogram sighed. Heinz could almost hear him slapping a palm to his face. “I wouldn’t do that if I was you.”

“Well I _promised,_ so you better give me a good reason why I shouldn’t,” Doofenshmirtz protested, fingers already reaching to connect the call three-way.

“Heinz, he doesn’t _know.”_ Francis seemed like he understood far more than he ought to have, and that set Heinz on edge. “He thinks Agent P is a pencil pusher. If you start dragging him around, he’s going to figure it out. And if he figures it out—”

“Agent P will lose everything,” Carl continued quietly. “He’ll have to move. And he won’t be able to contact any of his family. Or you.”

“Boy, you guys really thought _that_ through, didn't you?” Doofenshmirtz layered all of his sarcasm into the words, eyes narrowed as he stared off into the city. Where could Perry possibly be? And what was more—when they found him, what state would he be in? “What do you mean he _doesn’t know?_ Who’s his next-of-kin? Who would you have called if one of my inators did him in? Who do you call if… if…”

It was impossible for Perry the Platypus to be dead. He was Perry the Platypus. He could overcome _anything._

(And, Heinz decided grimly, if the impossible _was_ possible—if the bastards had somehow overcome him, and taken his life—there would be no force on Earth strong enough to withstand his vengeance.)

“It's a policy meant to protect the Agency,” Francis explained. He sounded like he'd given this speech many times before. “And the host families, of course. Our insurance doesn't cover the host families.”

“See, I never understood that. Why do they even _need_ host families? They're _adults,_ for badness’ sake. You'd think the top secret agents in the world would be able to handle a _mortgage.”_ Doofenshmirtz sighed as he continued to stare out over the city’s skyline, his heart clenching around the thought. For six years, Perry had kept that side of him swept into a deep, shadowed place. Somewhere that no one could reach. It had taken him six years to find out about this family. He didn’t want to ruin Perry’s trust by blabbing about it outright, but by extent—even if he didn’t know them—if Perry cared about them, then Heinz did, too. _“Chill._ I won’t tell Lawrence about your oh-so-precious _Agency._ But he deserves the truth, you know. And Perry the Platypus should have the chance to tell him. That kind of secret _weighs_ on a man.”

The distinct rustle of Francis stroking his mustache filled the silence for several minutes. Good, Heinz thought with satisfaction. If they didn't have an answer, it was one more loophole for Perry the Platypus to exploit. If he lived long enough to exploit it.

Heinz flinched and ousted the thought immediately.

“Look.” Francis’ voice was flat, and brooked no argument. Apparently he’d decided there was more pressing business to attend to. “Just let us handle this. We'll let you know when we find him. Until then…”

“‘Until then’? Until _when?_ You seriously think I'm just going to sit on my hands and wait?” Doofenshmirtz barked into the phone, ire rising to its peak. “I don't think so, Monobrow. This is more than one of your missions—this is _personal._ You're messing with _me and mine_ and I don’t have time to play out this waiting game, understand? If you think I’m going to sit here and _hope_ my nemesis isn’t dead in a ditch, you’ve got another thing coming. I’m going to find him with or without your help, and you better _hope_ I find him alive, or you’re going to be dealing with a lot more than _inators.”_

“Heinz—”

“I’ll talk to you two _later._ And fix your damn phone system!”

* * *

Carl placed the phone back on the receiver, glancing over at Major Monogram.

“’Me and mine’?” He quoted, pondering the words. “Does that mean…”

“Yes, Carl,” Francis sighed, sounding years older than he should. In his mind, he replayed two or three weeks ago to the night, and remembered eying the ghastly green-on-purple coloring so typical of Doofenshmirtz Evil, Inc. over Agent P’s shoulder. He hadn’t thought much of it then. Now, it took on an entirely different connotation. “It means exactly what you think it means.”

* * *

“But sir, I—”

“I’m afraid it’s just not advisable, Agent H.” Monogram steepled his fingers atop his desk, staring Harvey down with a face carved in stone. “Even if I granted you a team of agents, there’s no guarantee you’ll find Agent P there. If that’s the case, it’ll be considered breaking and entering. We do our best not to step on state law, you know.”

“With due respect, sir, there are more than five agents missing. We’ve got to start somewhere, right?” Biting his lip, the intrepid young agent offered the collected files he’d been holding under his arm. “I know we haven’t gotten anywhere with searching that warehouse—besides, that Crowe guy that had me captured is clearly up to something. I mean, that would’ve been the first place I’d search. If you’ll take a look at my report—”

“I did look at your report,” Francis corrected. He remembered being the wet-behind-the-ears recruit; fresh out of the Academy and eager to impress his superiors. Harvey was a sharp kid clear as day, but that didn’t mean his instincts were right. “It was pretty gruesome, come to think of it. But from what you’ve told me, all you saw was some shady fellow entering the building. You got caught sneaking around, and you got hurt. That’s it. I also reviewed your video logs. We didn’t see anything particularly out of the ordinary, besides the bear trap. Do you have any concrete evidence that Mr. Crowe is in possession of our missing agents? If so, speak up now. We’re wasting valuable resources trying to find them.”

“I… well, no, but…” Harvey bit his lip. “But he’s evil, sir, guaranteed. More evil than any of the mad scientists OWCA’s dealt with. Isn’t that enough?”

“You tell me,” Monogram suggested, picking up the OWCA handbook on his desk to wave it in Harvey’s face. “That’s something that should have been covered in your training.”

“Okay, so he didn’t build a giant death ray and he definitely didn’t laugh maniacally, but…” he sighed, scratching the back of his head. “It’s at least worth looking into, right? Seeing as we haven’t got leads anywhere else. Every other villain in the Tri-State Area has been quiet so far.”

Monogram stroked his mustache, and Harvey watched with some trepidation. He hadn’t actually intended to say anything directly to Monogram at all—it had only been by word of mouth that Francis had discovered he’d been rooting around in company files. He suspected he might still be in trouble, but at the very least he could explain his actions. That helped, right?

“Let’s say you’re right,” Monogram tilted his head at him, one half of his considerable brow line raised. “What would you do about it?”

“Give me a day or so to scout out the area,” Harvey suggested, shoulders sagging in relief. “Just to see if there’s any sign of OWCA agents on the premises. I won’t do anything except report back to headquarters if I find anything, I swear.”

“Hmm.” He was regarded with a heavy stare, almost enough to feel the weight of it tying him down. When he’d joined the Agency, they’d explained that he might sometimes have to make decisions such as these—to drag himself through tough situations in order to do the right thing, or simply pretend that they didn’t exist. He, clearly, felt the need to pursue the former. “Alright, agent. I’ll give you twelve hours to go scout South Danville. Take Agent S with you for backup, just in case. Oh, uh, if you’ll excuse me—that’s Carl with my mud bath.”

“Sir,” Harvey acknowledged, blinking as he watched his superior fly past him. Since he hadn’t been formally dismissed, he instead stood at attention until Monogram was out of sight, then awkwardly looked about the office as if he was being watched from all sides. He’d never actually been in Monogram’s office before, and for a new agent, he could see why it would be so disorienting. The eclectic collection of things in this office was overwhelming to say the least; he couldn’t imagine what the man would need with them all, but with so little attention to detail, maybe that was simply Monogram’s style.

Speaking of attention to detail… Harvey licked his lips. Monogram had left his computer unlocked.

 _Do not do this, Agent H,_ he thought to himself as he glanced at the open computer. A picture of Francis and his son (Harvey assumed it was his son, since they looked alike) covered the screen underneath a myriad of digital folders and files. Rocking on the balls of his feet, he glanced around and bit his lip. Monogram probably had the entire office under watch. Any halfway decent Division head would.

“…VERONICA?” Harvey tried uncertainly, almost hoping she wouldn’t answer.

No such luck. _“Good afternoon, Agent H. How may I be of assistance?”_

“Uh…” He was so getting fired. Maybe put in jail. Maybe executed. Did OWCA believe in capital punishment? “Do yooou… have access to files on Abraxas Crowe? I-I mean, ‘access files on Abraxas Crowe.’”

_"Please utilize the biometric scanner to access these files."_

Harvey bent once again, this time allowing VERONICA to read his fingerprints.

_"I apologize. No files were found on your search for 'Abraxas Crowe'."_

Damn.

In disappointment, Agent H stepped out from behind the desk and prepared to leave—until he spied a couple of fallen mustache hairs courtesy of Monogram and his habitual ticks.

“Oh man, oh man…” He spent long minutes deliberating on whether or not to proceed. But curiosity got the better of him, and eventually he steeled his spine and asked again: “VERONICA, access files on Abraxas Crowe.”

_"Please utilize the biometric scanner to access these files."_

He bit his lip, and offered a single silver hair to the scanner.

_“Good afternoon, Major Monogram. Here are the files you requested.”_

Instantly a torrent of files opened on the screen, the computer nearly fizzling in its attempt to keep up with the activity. Harvey’s eyes widened as profiles and records dating back years were revealed at the click of a mouse button; Crowe’s background, his proclivities, his aliases, his victims, all awaited his perusal. He shook his head in awe, before getting a hold of himself as VERONICA addressed him again.

_“Major Monogram, it is recommended that these files be re-encrypted to prevent unwanted access by unqualified OWCA agents. Would you like to encrypt these files?”_

“Uh, no,” Agent H said, decisive. “Don’t do that. As a matter of fact, send these files directly to Agent P. Codename: Platypus.”

VERONICA whirred. Harvey held his breath.

 _“Voice corroboration does not recognize Major Francis Monogram,”_ she rejected. Was it his imagination, or did she sound accusatory? _“Unauthorized access to security-restricted files detected. Agent H, remain stationary and prepare for detainment.”_

“Fuck,” he asserted with feeling. Harvey grabbed the keyboard in a frenzy, opening a good old-fashioned email client and uploading the files to send to Perry. Already, footsteps were stampeding down the hall. “Come on, come on…”

Sweat beaded his brow as he watched each file compress and add itself into the email. OWCA’s systems weren’t quite the best—that darn budget—but they got the job done, most of the time. Hissing with impatience, he crouched down behind the desk, assessing possible escape routes while he waited for the computer to finish its work.

Just as the door burst open to admit three agents, Harvey heard the computer confirm the file uploads. All he had to do was press the SEND button—

“Hacking into a division head’s computer? Seriously? What are you doing, Harv?” Darryl approached the desk, hoping that his friend didn’t have a weapon on hand. “Back away from the machine, okay? We don’t wanna have to do this. Just… do the right thing.”

“…That’s what I’m doing,” Harvey strained, as he sent the email on its way. He backed away from his contenders and turned. With one bullet the glass window shattered. Then Agent H ran like hell.

* * *

“Find anything?”

“No, I’m afraid not,” Lawrence sighed, moving to hold his phone between his cheek and shoulder. “I’ve checked all his favorite places, tried his phone, and called the office number he gave me—but the line is dead. Might’ve forgotten to update it. Don’t suppose you’ve had much luck yourself?”

“You know about as much as I do.” Heinz scratched the back of his head. The bags under his eyes were far more pronounced, as he’d been spending day and night attempting to piece together any sort of information that might lead to Perry’s whereabouts. One warehouse only led him so far—without Perry’s car, or access to his wrist communicator, there wasn’t much he could do. Even building an inator was out of the question, unless he wanted OWCA to pummel him for tearing up buildings in his rampage. Admittedly, he was exhausted, but Perry mattered far more than a few extra hours of sleep. “But I did go through my, uh, contacts. No one’s seen him since Saturday.”

Oh, dear.” Tapping his fingers against the counter, Lawrence stared out his window toward the backyard. The tree that his sons often played under was bare now—Linda had made true to her word and kept them from straying, just to make sure that they would stay safe. A pity he couldn’t do the same for Perry; although he was an adult, he still felt something akin to responsibility for him. “It doesn’t seem that we’re getting very far on our own, does it? If you’d like, you’re more than welcome to join us for dinner tonight. Two heads are better than one, as they say.”

“What, like, at your _house?”_ Doofenshmirtz chuckled uneasily. “He probably wouldn’t _approve._ I mean we just _met,_ and uh—”

“Ah. Fortunately for us, he isn’t the master of the house,” Lawrence replied loftily. Heinz’s eyebrows rose. Maybe he and Perry were more alike than he’d originally thought. “Pay it no mind, old chap. I’m sure he’d understand if he knew we have his best interests at heart. Besides—we so rarely get to meet any of his associates. We’re about due, don’t you think?”

“Thaaat’s.. one way to put it.” He smiled slightly, wishing they were exchanging this banter under happier circumstances. “Okay, I’m in. Where am I going? Hang on, let-let me get a _pen…”_

* * *

_What are we supposed to do?_

_What can we do? We don’t have anything left._

_He’ll kill us all by next week._

_Not him._

_Him too. He just has to suffer a little longer than we do._

_O ye of little faith. He’s been through worse._

_No he hasn’t. Look at him. He’s as good as dead._

_Have you ever even looked at his file? Believe me, he’ll get us out of here. I’m sure of it._

_Don’t hold your breath. Even he can’t live forever._

_Well, then we’re as good as dead either way._

* * *

“Wow, you have a lovely home. I mean _pff,_ who does your _decorating?_ ‘Cause you know, I’ve been thinking about changing some things up _myself,_ and this style is so—”

“Oh, thank you, yes, so nice of you to say. I’ve no idea who did the decorating, actually.” Lawrence looked around, blinking at the various paintings and general layout of the room as Doofenshmirtz stepped over the threshold. “But Linda might know. She’s in the kitchen just finishing up—in the meantime, shall I take your coat?”

“Uh…” Heinz shuffled, the thought of his lab coat lying in a closet leaving him with a debilitating sense of exposure. “No, that’s… that’s _okay,_ I get a little _chilled_ sometimes. It’s-it’s just a _thing,_ you know. If that’s alright.”

“Why of course it’s alright. Come in then, and let’s get you settled. Boys! Come and greet our guest, would you?”

“Oh! I didn’t know we were having people over.” Two young boys—ten? Twelve? It was hard for him to tell—sauntered up to the pair of them and offered a bright grin and a wave. One of them was carrying a distinctly dog-shaped metal device. Heinz nodded in greeting.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Doctor _Heinz_ Doofenshmirtz. Say,” he muttered, narrowing his eyes. “Do I know you from somewhere? You look _really_ familiar…”

“Uh, no, I don’t think so.” The redhead paused and put a palm to his chin, mimicking Heinz’s pose. The kid with the dog robot looked between them and blinked. “But I am getting a really serious case of deja-vu. What about you, Ferb?”

Ferb—Heinz briefly wondered what they were thinking when they named him _that_ —wiggled his hand up and down. He recognized the gesture as distinctly Perry-like.

“My sons, Phineas and Ferb,” Lawrence introduced. He clapped a hand on each of the boys’ shoulders and smiled down at them with a level of affection Heinz didn’t believe was possible in a man. “I apologize, my—I believe my daughter is actually out with her friends tonight, but I believe I’ve mentioned these two before. Precocious young lads, aren’t they? What’s that you’ve got there, Phin?”

“We’re building a Perry tracker.” Phineas took the machine from his brother’s grasp and wiggled it a little. From what Heinz could see, it was impressively crafted even in its unfinished state, although he would have made a few tweaks in its design. It didn’t even have a self-destruct button. “We thought it would help find him faster. But it can’t exactly find Uncle Perry if it has nothing to detect Uncle Perry with, so…”

“Oh, that’s easy. A little DNA should do the trick.” Doofenshmirtz bent to one knee, giving the device a critical look. “You could just grab something from his room. Even a hair would do.”

“Uncle Perry keeps his room locked.” Phineas and Ferb glanced at each other, and then back at Heinz. “That would’ve been the first thing we tried. And Mom tends to clean really well, so…”

“Really? I mean, no toothbrush in the bathroom, no personal _coffee_ mug, no nothin’?”

Ferb spread his arms wide in a shrug while Phineas lifted his shoulders. “Heee also has his own bathroom.”

His own _bathroom?_ Well, that certainly explained the lack of questions about scrapes and cuts that he would get otherwise. Heinz would have commented, if he trusted himself not to let something slip. Instead he got back to his feet as Lawrence shuffled the two of them toward the kitchen.

“Not to worry, boys, we’ll find your uncle soon enough. Go on, let’s put that away for now.”

“But you know, I really think they’re _on to something_ there.” Heinz followed the trio into the kitchen, allowing himself to take in the scent of pork roast and mashed potatoes for a moment. “I-I mean, really, if we could adapt that into an _actual_ Perry tracker, then it’d be no problem at all to find him. Are you sure there isn’t _any_ DNA of his lying around somewhere? I mean that’s just… really hard to wrap my _head_ around in such a big _house…”_

“My cousin is a very private man, Heinz.” Lawrence smiled, a little wistfully. Doofenshmirtz sighed. The sheer amount of will it took to keep all of this a secret for half a decade was impressive. It sat with him in all the wrong ways, meeting Perry’s family without him by his side—knowing he had a cousin; knowing he had nephews, a niece, a whole family to protect; they were all things he should never have learned about until his nemesis was ready to reveal them. Now, Heinz felt like he had been caught out of bounds. Would Perry be angry once he found out that his secrets were no longer his own?

“Yeah,” he offered, rubbing the back of his neck. “That I know.”

* * *

“No, I—I’m not kidding, I really am in some deep shit here. Please, they’re literally right around the corner—”

“I still do not understand what this has to do with us. After all, you were the one who trespassed on classified intelligence.”

“Listen,” Harvey pulled his hat down over his eyes, as if doing so would shield him from the prowling agents still hot on his tail. “I know you guys have the resources. This is big. I mean bigger than you, me—I need help, and I need it fast. Strip me of my ranks when we’re done, if you want; I just want to help get those missing agents back. And I think I know where to find them.”

Jean Claude exchanged a glance with the steward beside him, deep frowns etched on both of their faces. Eventually, however, they stepped aside to allow him into the restaurant, and locked the door before the three agents trailing Harvey could see where he had gone.

 _“Très bien._ Follow me, Agent H. Our tracking system may be down, but I believe we may still be able to accommodate your needs.”

* * *

“Now _that_ is an excellent example of how to make doonkleberry pie.” Heinz sat back, entirely satiated by the full meal he’d just taken in amidst the chatter of the Flynn-Fletcher family. “I mean honestly, you could _sell_ that if you wanted to.”

“Yeah, Mom! We could be your marketing team!” Phineas perked, his brother offering an upturned thumb. Linda simply laughed.

“I don’t think so. I’ve got enough on my plate as it is.” She waved a hand as if to brush the thought away, then moved to clear the table.

“Oh. Uh, here. Let me help you with that.”

“Oh, no, Heinz, you really don’t have to—”

“No-no-no, I insist. It’s the least I can _do,_ y’know?” Linda gave him a grateful smile as he took the soiled plates from her, bending to pick up a few more utensils to carry to the sink. It hadn’t occurred to him that Perry would have come from such a simplistic, normal family—barring the two young geniuses who had already scampered off. He wondered if they were going to work on their little tracking device, and partially regretted offering to wash the dishes. If he could help in any way…

“You wash, I’ll dry?” Lawrence stepped up beside him and offered a placating smile. Doofenshmirtz bit his lip and nodded his consent while the tap turned under his fingers. “So. I know I stole all the air in the room when we met; it’s only polite that I return the favor and offer an ear. Tell me about yourself.”

“There’s… there’s not much to _tell.”_ That was a lie, but he wasn’t entirely sure the rest of the Flynn-Fletcher household had quite the stomach that Perry had.

“Ah, now I know that isn’t true.” Perry’s cousin lifted and set the dishes as Doofenshmirtz handed them over. They fell into a quiet rhythm, though Heinz found himself contemplating exactly how to navigate this conversation. “You managed to pique Perry’s interest. No one’s ever done that before. Which means, my dear fellow, that _you_ are _truly_ made of something special.”

“Special, huh.” He bit his tongue against the bout of laughter that threatened to emerge. Special was certainly one way of putting it—he still couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was that attracted Perry to him. Pity, maybe. Or something very similar. At least, he would have believed that if he didn’t know his nemesis well enough by now. The picture of a young Peregrin Fletcher suddenly seemed to weigh heavy at his side. “So… you mean to say he’s never…?”

“I helped him pick it out, you know.” Lawrence was staring out the window again, toward the sunlight falling past his wooden fence. “The outfit. The suit that he wore, when he went to go see you. We were at it for hours; I didn’t even think he still had the bloody thing. You see, he wore it at my wedding. My, ah, second wedding, that is.”

“Oh. Right.” Well, at least the kids were lucky enough to live in a reconstituted family.

“But that’s the interesting thing about Perry, isn’t it,” Lawrence amended, readjusting himself to dry a particularly large pot. Heinz wondered if this was how Perry felt like when he listened to him monologue, and did his best to keep quiet. “He never does quite what you expect him to do. I met him when he was twenty. They said he… what was it? Transferred, from a university in Australia. And I thought, how on earth am I supposed to live with someone so closed off and quiet? But he opened up to me after a while. Oh, you’d be surprised at how much of a difference it makes when he does that. Well, no. That isn’t right. Actually, I don’t think you would.”

They dried their hands. Heinz glanced to the side and hoped to high heaven he wouldn’t put his foot in his mouth.

“That so?”

“Quite. I’ve never seen my cousin’s eyes actually _sparkle_ before.” Lawrence’s elbows rested on the edge of the counter. Doofenshmirtz, remembering how his stomach had twisted when he’d noticed that expression at the restaurant, couldn’t help a little smile. He didn’t notice his host watching him out of the corner of his eye.

“It must be nice,” he remarked, “to have someone who makes you smile like that.”

Heinz’s brow furrowed. From what he could tell, Lawrence and Linda lived perfectly happy lives and were entirely enamored with each other. He glanced at him out of his own peripheral vision and frowned. “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying that whatever binds you two together, it certainly is a sight more than working in the same office for however many years.” Now they were staring at each other. In that moment Doofenshmirtz saw immediately the resemblance between Lawrence and Peregrin Fletcher—they had the exact same shrewd, no-nonsense expressions. It seemed Perry was simply prone to wearing his more often. “I expect you don’t know it, but for me, that sort of devotion from him is nearly palpable. It’s the same effort he’s given to this family for years, and never once has he shown that attachment to anyone else. Except for now.”

Heinz pursed his lips, keeping himself from pointing out how devoted Lawrence’s cousin could really be.

“I know, you see.” Lawrence tilted his head. “I know he isn’t what he says he is. I… I don’t quite know why he says it, or… or why he feels the need to lie. But he must have his reasons. I only hope that he’s making the right choices, because lying to me, that’s one thing. But lying to the children, well. I may be a simple man, Heinz, but they didn’t give me a doctorate for nothing.”

Some savagely vindictive part of him hoped that Monogram was watching this—hoped that OWCA knew and was made to suffer the pain of an agent’s innocent family. What Perry had done for his career struck him in a way it hadn’t before. Did he have that same strength? Could he have lied to Charlene, lied to Vanessa, for almost his entire life? Could he hold those secrets without succumbing to the loneliness he could see in Perry’s eyes? Lesser men would bow and break under that pressure. But not Perry. Never Agent P. He only hoped he had enough in him to share that burden until the Agency clued in on how much their beloved policies were hurting them all.

“It’s silly, I know.” Automatically Heinz shook his head. Whatever speech he was about to get, Lawrence was clearly doing it out of love. “He’s a grown man who can make his own decisions. I just wish he would tell me. I wish he could trust me. But… from what I understand, at least he has you. And I’m grateful. I truly am. You’ll watch over him for me, won’t you?”

Hysterical laughter bubbled up from his throat. Doofenshmirtz coughed to keep it down. If Lawrence thought Perry was the one who needed to be watched, he was sorely mistaken. Even so… “I’ll, uh… I’ll do my best.”

“Good man.” He clapped Heinz on the back, and they grinned sheepishly at each other while he followed Lawrence out of the kitchen. “You can start by helping me come up with a plan to find him.”

* * *

“I dunno, Ferb. I think we’re gonna have to find another way around it.”

“Having some trouble, kids?” While Linda had gone upstairs, Lawrence found his sons working at the living room table, their frowns evident as they considered the dog-like device. Heinz sat down on the couch and watched them, silently curious.

“No, not really.” Phineas narrowed his eyes while Ferb continued to poke at the wiring. “It works, but it isn’t going to help very much. Like I said—we can’t find Uncle Perry if we have nothing to find him with. So, we need to come up with a different way to look for him.”

“Boy, that must be _some lock_ he has on his door.” Doofenshmirtz’s brows rose up toward his hairline, and indigo eyes looked up toward the staircase. What, did Perry have a voice controlled gate entrance at his door or something? Maybe this family was just really big on privacy. “I could uh, go up there and try to _jimmy it open_ if you want.”

Lawrence snorted at him. Heinz supposed it was better he thought of the offer as a joke anyway.

“Maybe we shouldn’t rely on DNA tracking.” He admired this kid’s pluck—and oddly, was reminded of himself back in Gimmelshtump. Phineas was all of ten (or twelve) and was already building complex machinery. It was unsettling to watch; as if he was looking into some sort of distorted mirror, seeing what life would have been like if he’d been surrounded by a loving, stable household. But Heinz didn’t need to run comparisons to see that the two brothers were absolutely brilliant. Even so, he cleared his throat, and reached forward to poke at the dog’s nose.

“DNA is really _useful,”_ Heinz supplied. “But it’s, uh, it requires you to be really _precise,_ so it isn’t the greatest thing to use over a wide radius, like the Tri-State Area. Now, if you’ve got, _I_ dunno, some sort of _image sensing capability,_ then—”

Phineas snapped his fingers. “—Then we’d be able to use any old picture of Uncle Perry to find him! What a great idea, Doctor D!”

“…Thanks,” Doofenshmirtz blinked, surprised. Lawrence beamed.

“Hey Dad, we’ve got a bunch of photo albums, right? Could you look for a picture of Uncle Perry while we rebuild this?”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Heinz got the feeling that he was happy to simply be included—but honestly, in this instance, the more people working, the faster it would get done. He didn’t notice that Ferb had gone, or that Phineas was watching him until he stuck a small screwdriver in his face.

“You seem like you know what you’re doing,” Perry’s nephew proclaimed. “Wanna lend us a hand? You could help us design the visual sensors!”

“Ah, kid,” Doofenshmirtz chuckled, feeling his chest loosen just the slightest. He bent to kneel on the carpet while Ferb returned, and took the screwdriver that was offered to him. “You’re speakin’ my language.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanna thank you guys for loving this story so much? Like, all your reviews make me feel all fuzzy inside. Even if I don't respond to all of them personally, know that they're much of the driving force behind the continuation of this story, and that I'm so glad it makes you all happy :)
> 
> We're coming to a head here! Look forward to more fun with the Agents P in the next chapter, since we didn't get a lot of it this time.

**Author's Note:**

> Want more updates on the Lingua Franca series? Come join me on [my tumblr](http://inators.tumblr.com) or the [Perryshmirtz discord server](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fdiscord.gg%2FrRuzqNW&t=OGM5NzRjNzkzM2I5OTAxZDE3ZGNmMGE1OTgzODkwOWY0MmNkYTE1OCw3eVRBcHpLeA%3D%3D&b=t%3AfJL2W5yyflT_j60r4H9hjw&p=https%3A%2F%2Fperryshmirtz-events.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F182016407003%2Fvalentines-perryshmirtz-event-what-love-means&m=1).  
> And, for the truly curious: if you feel like tracking Perry's development a little more closely, come follow my [Perry RP blog](http://fedoratm.tumblr.com)!


End file.
